Tools of your Trade
by Wolf of the Western Woods
Summary: A short look into the life and interactions of Savage Opress.
1. Light Bow

**Hi readers! I'm back! And trying out a new fandom too!**

**Ok, so this story happened because I saw the Savage and Maul episodes of the Clone Wars and they kinda broke my heart and left me crying for both of them. And, while my sister MuchAdoAboutNonny (go check her out too peeps) took charge of our brainstorms involving a continuation of Maul's story, I really wanted to write something about poor Savage. So this is that story. **

* * *

_The Light Bow is a weapon of scarcity and deadly grace. It is a hunter's tool and an assassin's pride. And it forces no connection between its wielder and its victim. ~Brutal_

Kycina drove her speeder resolutely, trying to ignore the painful wrenching in her heart as she thought of her destination. Six months earlier, she had gone into seclusion as some sisters chose to do to when giving birth to their first child. As fate would have it, her choice was wise. She had given birth to twin boys. One had been beautiful, a rare red color to his skin like the skin of his father. As soon as she saw him she knew his fate would be sealed if he was given to the Night Brothers, as those with red skin were coveted by the sisters. As soon as he was of age he would be taken as his father was. But she also saw a possibility that few Night Sister mothers ever had. She could save one of her boys. So she chose to save that one, finding a traveler who was visiting Dathomir for only a short time and giving the child to him, bartering his passage off world. The other, who she now carried with her, was the smaller and weaker. His skin was a pale green/gold and his eyes were gray. She looked to his basket which sat beside her in her craft, seeing his keen little eyes looking back to her. She bit her lip, holding to her resolve.

She wondered if she'd made the right choice in handing over the healthier baby, who she'd named Maul, rather than this little one. After all, who was to say which would grow up stronger, smarter? Why did she not just give both of them to the traveler as she had been tempted?

But she knew she couldn't have done that. The other Night Sisters knew she had conceived, watched as she grew through her pregnancy, and wished her good health when she left, so if she didn't bring back a girl someone would be sent to check that a boy was given to the Night Brother clan. And if no child was found, she would be punished. It was simple; nobody was excused from the laws, the will of the Spirits. This boy or the other had to be given to the clan. She could only have saved one. And the choice she was forced to make had almost killed her, as she was sure handing this baby to the Night Brothers would.

She drove until she came to the outskirts of the little settlement, seeing the sentries give her less than friendly looks as she entered. And why should they not? Women were always bad news to them. She came to a halt at the center of town and turned to the baby beside her.

"Fear not, my Savage," she said as she reassured herself more than the baby, "You will live well here, I'm sure of it."

She then picked him up and stepped out of the speeder, walking towards the Father of the settlement. He approached her, well used to welcoming and tending to the sisters. He was older than she was, in his late thirties. She knew that he only survived to that age because it was forbidden for him to be taken.

"Welcome, sister," he said, his voice cordial in spite of his rigid stance and tone, "What can I do for you?"

"I am looking for the nearest relative of a man I took in the choice a little over one year ago," she replied, "This child is his."

"Ah, I see," he said, looking toward the blanketed bundle in her arms.

He gestured to her to come forward, inviting her inside the nearby hut, which was the largest in the town square. She followed him, and when the door was shut behind them he turned to her, an almost sympathetic look in his eyes.

"I remember Carnage," he said, "I know his elder brother well. I will have him sent for."

She couldn't think of any response so she simply nodded, instinctively holding her baby tighter to her. Every instinct in her told her to turn and go back to her speeder, take her baby with her, and run as far as she could run from this place. The Night Sisters need never find her. She could run to one of the others tribes of sisters that kept their men with them. She could watch him grow, her little baby, he need never know the hard life that she was about to doom him to.

But she couldn't do that either. The Spirits would be angered by her disobedience, and if they were not vengeful then Mother Talzin certainly would be. She had already broken enough rules in saving her pretty baby, her little one was too much to ask from the Spirits. They had given her two, she must give them at least one.

Kycina didn't know how long it was before she heard footsteps approaching the door, but it wasn't long enough. She'd found herself a chair in the Father's absence and nursed her little Savage one last time. When she heard the steps she covered herself and curled around her baby. She didn't want to show weakness before men, or doubt of her purpose here, but he was _hers_. They had no right!

The Father walked in first, followed by a man just a little taller than he was and a few years younger. That was an accomplishment for any man beside the Father, son of Talzin's reared to lead the Night Brothers. Of course, Talzin could make sure that her little boy was safe and esteemed, but any other woman had to let their child go to the slaughter.

"Sister," the Father said, turning to see both her and the other man, "This is Brutal, Carnage's elder brother. Brutal, the child the sister brings us came of your brother. Are you willing to tend him?"

The man, Brutal, hesitated for a moment and Kycina took that time to evaluate his every feature. His skin was lighter than his brother, something like the color of her little one, and his eyes were blue. He was in his mid thirties and built like a soldier, with a wiry frame that was not hugely attractive and a thin, sharply boned face. Everything about him said "dangerous" and Kycina couldn't help but notice that he was evaluating her as she was him. After a few moments, he wordlessly held out his arms towards the baby, upon which the Father turned and exited the shelter, his job finished and other work to do. Kycina pulled back instinctively, holding her Savage close to her. Brutal's quick eyes met hers and an understanding came to them. He dropped to one knee and met her eyes solidly.

"Sister," he said, his voice deep and gruff, "I know nothing of you. You know nothing of me. The only reason we meet is our mutual interest in this child."

At this he paused and looked at the little bundle she was holding so tightly, a tender look that didn't match his surly face coming to his eyes.

"I raised my brother, Carnage, since he was given to me when I was fifteen," he said, looking at her again, "And I can't say that I could ever care a bit about comforting you, after what you did to him. But this child is now all there is left of him in the galaxy. I promise that I will protect this boy with my life."

Kycina saw the determination on his face and heard his sincerity. Her breath began to heave slightly, but she loosed her grip on her little baby and held him out to this man, knowing at least that he would have a good guardian. Brutal took the child in his hands gently, with the ease of a man who has held and cared for a baby before. He looked closely at little Savage for a moment before returning his eyes to her, all gruffness and surly masculinity again.

"What's his name?" he demanded more than asked.

Kycina tried to speak but her voice refused to cooperate with her for a moment. Finally, she forced the word out.

"Savage," she said hoarsely, her shoulders now shaking miserably.

Brutal nodded once and turned away, not giving her a second glance before walking out of the hut and leaving her alone to sob for the babies she'd lost.

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**Ok, so a few notes before I let you go. **

**Brutal is pronounced Bru-TALL. Doesn't really matter I suppose, but it does to me. **

**Oh, and about the chapter name. Each chapter is named for the weapon that most suits its content matter. So, for this chapter, it's a Light Bow since this is the one and only chapter told from Kycina's point of view. The next chapter will be coming along shortly, hope to see you all then! Leave me a review if you like it so far!**


	2. Club

**Chapter two, here for your pleasure. I also fixed my naming error in the last chapter, thank you to the person who told me about that. Leave me a review if you like, or if you don't like too. I always gratefully accept constructive criticism. :)**

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_A club is thick, sturdy, and easy to use, ideal for training a young warrior. Better to learn force before tact. ~Brutal_

"Wake up, punk," Brutal growled, poking the mass under the covers of his nephew's bed with his staff, "You've slept in an hour already and the fields don't tend themselves."

"Five minutes…" a drowsy voice replied.

Brutal rolled his eyes. Ever since turning twelve, Savage had developed a rebellious streak a mile wide. He slept all the time, was always late for work in the morning, and on top of it all his appetite had doubled overnight. Worst of all, it was the same game with this little punk every morning. Try to wake him up, he gives you a pitiful tone and refuses. Threaten him and he just ignores. But not today.

Casually, Brutal walked over to the end of the bed where his nephew's feet were sticking out from the blanket, took hold of both rear legs of the cot, and both pulled and lifted simultaneously. The result was a rather amusing sound, followed by the thump of the little punk hitting the ground, followed by several muttered profanities. Brutal just chuckled deep in his chest and threw the kid his clothes

"You can sleep when you're dead, Savage," he said over his shoulder as he left, "Until then, someone has to grow the grain to feed you."

* * *

Savage had a long day in the fields. First, the drebbin they used as a plow beast this year escaped, so he and another brother had been forced to hunt it down, fight it back into its bridle and harness, and then start the plowing two hours late when the sun was already hot overhead. There were about three hundred buried rocks that needed digging up, all of which were far too large. Then they'd found an entire nest of sparkflies in a dead log that had to be removed, that had been fun. He swore he could still feel himself twitching where they'd shocked him. And all for what? So they could grow enough grain for the bloody Night Sisters? Finally, the field work was done for the day and he would just go home and go back to bed. Well, maybe after a snack.

"Punk!"

And then there was him. Savage rolled his eyes and turned around, fixing Brutal with a resigned look.

"What now, Uncle?" he asked, "I'm finished with my work!"

"You givin' me lip, boy?" his uncle asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

"No, I'm stating the obvious," Savage replied, gesturing to the field, "I'm done, and I'm tired. What do you want?"

His uncle smirked at him and walked over to stand beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You've seemed a little bored lately," he said, pulling Savage along as he walked, "I thought you could use a little extra entertainment."

"But I'm not bored…"

"Seeing as you're getting older," Brutal carried on, "I'd say it's about time for you to start full training as a warrior."

"But I've been training since I was…"

"I know I've already taught you the basics," Brutal replied before Savage could even finish, "What I'm talking about is learning the rest. You only know how to handle one weapon well, and you're clumsy and awkward. Not to mention, you never spar lately since you've been too busy napping. So, from now on, every day after work you will meet me in the town square for a lesson."

Savage groaned and Brutal tapped him on the head between his horns.

"This is not up for debate, punk," he said, and then taking a friendlier tone, "You'll have a great time getting your ass handed to you. It builds character."

* * *

Savage didn't know how his uncle sitting on his chest could build character, but he sure wasn't going to ask. This was the third lesson that Brutal had forced on him since that day with the sparkfly incident, and he could honestly say he hadn't learned a thing, other than a fact that he would never be allowed to forget anyway. Namely, his uncle could whip him in a one on one. Big surprise.

"Alright, alright, I give!" Savage coughed, and his uncle got off his chest, laughing like always, "What are you trying to do, kill me?"

"Haha, no," Brutal replied, helping him up, "If I'd wanted to kill you, I'd have done it a hundred times before now. I'm trying to show you something."

Savage just stared at him, unwilling to play along and ask, "Show me what?" like his uncle obviously expected.

"Since you're so curious," Brutal said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm trying to show you how to fight a foe stronger than you."

"By sitting on me? Gee, thanks," Savage replied, rolling his eyes.

He'd been doing that a lot lately. Strangely enough, his uncle mirrored the gesture before walking over to him.

"Savage," he said, his voice more serious than before.

Savage looked up and saw his uncle regarding him closely.

"You'll be a man soon, when you turn sixteen," Brutal said after a moment, "And as a man, you'll be subject to the choice. Do you know what that means, boy?"

Savage nodded. Of course he knew what the choice was. It was when a sister came, chose one of the men to be her mate, and took him away, never to return.

"I know, you know what the choice means," his uncle said, his tone forcing eye contact again, "But do you know what that means for you?"

Savage just blinked uncomprehendingly.

"If a sister chooses a man, what must she do to take him?" Brutal asked.

"I don't know," Savage replied after a few moments, "I've never been in the town square to see it."

Brutal nodded and patted his shoulder sympathetically. The young boys were kept away from town square whenever possible, and certainly when a woman was there. There was no need for the women to see them before they came of age.

"She must fight him in one on one," Brutal stated simply, "If he beats her, or if she can't win, she can't take him. It's only if she can get him to surrender to her that he is taken."

Savage blinked again.

"So, what you're saying is that I should never surrender?" he asked, looking up to his uncle again.

"No," Brutal replied, "What I'm saying is that you don't surrender unless it's that or die. I had you down, yes, and pinned. But you could have gotten out of that if you thought about it instead of panicking. Don't give up that easily. You only have one life to surrender; you better make sure she's earned it before you do."

Savage thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Show me more, Uncle."

* * *

The first time Savage beat him in a one on one, Brutal thought he must be losing his touch. Savage was eighteen by that point, and had been passed up once in the choice already. There was a benefit to being somewhat boney and not the traditional idea of attractive. But Brutal lost again, a week later. And two days after that. That was then Brutal knew that he'd done his job. If he could say anything about his accomplishments in life, it would be that this kid could survive with or without him now.

"Uncle!"

Brutal smiled and turned around to see his scrappy looking nephew running up behind him.

"Are we going to train today, Uncle?" he asked when he came to a stop before him, smiling, "Scar showed me a trick today, during a break in the work, that I'd like to practice."

"On me?" Brutal asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Who else?" Savage replied, grinning.

Brutal grinned back and clapped his nephew on the shoulder.

"I think you've beaten an old man enough for one week," he replied, pushing the kid, "Why don't you just run a couple of laps today or something?"

"Old?" Savage replied, grinning wider, "You're forty-nine! That's not old, that's ancient."

Brutal raise an eyebrow and the punk shrugged his shoulders, grinning sarcastically.

"Ok, so you are old. But what's the fun in picking on someone my own age?"

Brutal snickered a little and Savage shoved him a couple times, trying to start something.

"You remember the first lesson I ever taught you, punk?" he asked at last, earning another grin from Savage.

Savage stopped a moment to think before he replied.

"What end of the club to hold?" he answered at last, shrugging and smiling cluelessly.

"Nope," Brutal said, catching the kid off guard with a quick hit to the stomach then putting him in a headlock, "Never mess with you uncle."

Savage laughed a little and tried to free himself while Brutal used his free hand to tap his skull between his horns lightly. Yeah, Savage would be ok. Brutal knew he'd gotten at least that much right.

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**The way I see it, for a Dathomiri/Zabrak male, tapping the head between the horns would be somewhat akin to a noogie. **

**Next chapter will be up soon, see you then!**


	3. Spear

**Next chapter here at last! Leave me a review, let me know how I'm doing!**

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_Long enough to be doubly functional as a staff and a projectile, a spear can be your deadliest weapon. Unlike arrows, you can see them coming at you, but that doesn't mean you can get out of the way in time. ~Brutal_

Savage finished his work in the field early. He was nineteen now and enjoying his youthful strength for all it was worth. After all, some sister could choose him any day. He had to enjoy life while he could! He ran from the fields, throwing a rock at Scar as he did so he knew he would have a sparring partner, and took off for the town square. His uncle would be waiting for him.

Lately it seemed his uncle had been slowing down. And he had a right to, Savage knew that. He was fifty, for Spirits' sake! Only he, the Father, and one other man in the village who was facially disfigured since birth had made it to that old. But he didn't want to spar with Savage as often and he really seemed to enjoy it when Savage brought along his friends so he could boss them around a little too. None of the guys seemed to mind. He was like the village's second Father, and elders were to be respected.

He barely managed to get into the square before Scar performed the perfect jumping tackle and took him down. Why did he teach the kid that, again? Savage cussed as they hit the ground, then they both began to laugh and wrestle, throwing insults back and forth good-naturedly. Savage had just managed to get the upper hand over his younger companion when they heard his uncle's voice calling off the wrestling match.

"Punks!"

They both laughed and let go of each other, sitting up and looking towards the voice. Brutal was walking towards them, favoring his left leg but otherwise looking as imposing as he ever had. Savage stood up and walked to meet his uncle, Scar following right behind him.

"I see we're all in fine spirits today," Brutal said, smirking at the two dust-covered young men.

"The field work was finished for the season today," Scar said in reply, "We were just celebrating."

"Horsing around is no way to celebrate," Brutal said, an amused glimmer in his eyes nonetheless, "Sparring, now that is a more productive way to spend your time. Follow me, punks."

Brutal turned and began walking towards an unoccupied section of the square and Savage and his friend followed. Now that Brutal had his attention though, Savage did notice that his uncle was favoring his leg badly. An old injury maybe? When they arrived at Brutal's destination a moment later, Scar put voice to the question they both wanted to ask.

"You've got a limp today, sir," he said, "You ok?"

Brutal just smiled and put his weight on his good leg.

"Just an old scar acting up on me," he said nonchalantly, confirming Savage's guess, "Put too much pressure on a past injury in the work today. Nothing to worry about. In fact, today I'm going to teach you punks about the move that gave me the scar. Hopefully you won't actually use it on each other though."

"Another brother did that?" Savage said, his brow furrowing.

"No," Brutal answered him quickly, "It was a sister who tried to choose me when I was twenty. She won't be choosing anyone now."

Scar smiled in undisguised hero-worship and Savage smirked, restraining himself from rolling his eyes. Story time.

"You see, we had fought one another for almost an hour," Brutal began, and Savage couldn't help but be drawn in by the story, though he'd heard its like before, "The sister was tiring, as was I, and she knew that if she wanted to win this thing she'd have to step in up a notch. I stood in guard position, waiting for her next move. She threw herself into the air, which was reckless but unexpected, and came down behind me before I could turn around fully. Then she kicked the back of my knee. I was down now, and hurting, but I sure as the Spirits wasn't going to give up. I spun on my good leg and swiped her feet out from under her. She lost her balance just as the platform behind her started to rise, and before I could so much as blink, her head slammed down on it and her neck broke with a crack like nothing I'd ever heard. So, remember boys, the man's life isn't the only one at risk in the choice."

Scar nodded, his eyes drinking in the information, and Savage grinned at his uncle. He knew how to catch the attention of his audience, that was for sure. Brutal had claimed the lives of seven sisters in the choice, and four had gone away without making him surrender. He had become a legend for the young brothers.

"I hope I can win against a sister, if one ever tries to choose me," Scar said.

"You're only sixteen," Savage said, shoving his younger companion, "The sisters want a man, not a kid."

"Hey, I'm a man!" Scar said, though his voice cracked embarrassingly as he did, "I'm old enough now!"

"Don't be too happy about that, punk," Brutal said, putting a hand on both Savage's and Scar's shoulders, "The choice isn't something to be eager about. It's a fight to train for. Speaking of which, let me see the best you've got."

Needing no further encouragement, the boys fell into guard position as Brutal had taught them. They circled each other for a few moments, looking for weaknesses, the Savage attacked first with a quick jab to the face. Scar ducked and brought his horns up under his arm, putting him off-balance, and then swung his right arm in a deceptively clumsy looking move that always blindsided Savage. And it didn't fail today. Savage fell on his ass like a sack of bricks and Scar lunged down after him, triumph on his face. Until Savage brought his foot up into his stomach, earning a laugh and a compliment from his uncle. The two wrestled for a while, trying to pin the other. Then everything in the town square froze as the most dreaded sound in the village, the sound of a speeder nearby, announced the arrival of a woman.

Savage and Scar pushed apart from each other and got to their feet, running as swiftly as they could to get clear of town square before the Father could call a lineup. Savage could hear his uncle behind them, and glanced over his shoulder at him, receiving a shooing gesture from the older man when he did. But, as hard as they tried, it wasn't fast enough. The sister pulled her speeder into the square and the Father called the lineup before any of them could get clear of the square. The boys stiffened and turned back around, walking back to the center of the area with Brutal.

"Try not to draw attention to yourselves, boys," Brutal said under his breath.

They all ran to take their places in the lineup and Savage stood at attention, with Scar on his left and Brutal on his right. The sister turned and began to walk through the ranks, looking the men over like beasts for sale. She touched the bicep of one here, the chest of another there, and then she stopped before Savage. He tried not to look at her, but two fingers touched his chin gently and he couldn't resist a swift, fearful glance.

She was an older sister than many that came, almost as old as forty by all appearances. Her hair, which was uncovered, was blond and tied in a bun and her eyes were grey. She was looking at him for longer than she had the others. Savage knew very well what that meant. He flinched involuntarily when she spoke out, addressing him.

"What is your name?" she asked, her hand still lightly touching his chin.

"It is Savage, sister," he replied, trying to be respectful but not sound inviting.

"Savage," the sister said, smiling a little sadly, "You've grown strong."

The sister's hand caressed his cheek once before she turned and called out to the Father.

"You can send this one away," she said happily, "It wouldn't do for me to choose my own son."

Savage's eyes widened as the Father gave him a dismissive gesture. He locked eyes with the sister, with his mother, for a moment before turning and leaving the square, stepping over the tile line that marked its border. Unwilling to leave while his friend and uncle were still there, however, he found the nearest rock and sat on it, watching the proceedings closely.

"These men are good," his mother continued, looking to Scar now, "But, well…look at this one. He's just a child. I would feel like a vortir lizard robbing the nest if I chose him."

Savage let out a quick breath of relief that she didn't have interest in his friend. But it quickly hitched again when he saw where her eyes were headed next.

"Now you," she said, approaching Brutal, "You have a few more years to your credit."

She walked swiftly to Brutal and stopped in front of him, her eyes widening with recognition.

"Brutal?" she said tentatively, "Is that you?"

His uncle hesitated for a moment before answering. That or he had to swallow his hatred first. Savage could feel the loathing coming from his uncle in waves.

"It is," he answered at last.

"Articulate as ever, I see," the woman said, smiling, "I owe you my thanks. You have done well by my Savage, just as you said you would."

"I may not be much in this life," Brutal answered, glaring daggers at the woman, "But I am good to my word and to my kin."

"Noble qualities, to be sure," she replied, smiling now in a different, more alarming way, "But he is old enough now that he needs no more protection, yes?"

Brutal did not answer, but the sister walked away, satisfied that she knew her answer.

"I will choose Brutal," she announced to the Father, "Have the arena prepared for us."

* * *

When Brutal returned from the arena, he was limping heavily and cradling a broken arm. He took pride in the fact that Kycina, the little viper, looked just as bad as he did. Savage ran out of the hut as soon as he came within view, running swiftly to him and offering his arm for support.

"How bad are you hurt, Uncle?" he asked when Brutal accepted the arm, "Do I need to take you to the healer?"

"Probably not a bad idea," Brutal answered, wincing.

The two trudged along to the healer's hut. Brutal could sense the curiosity from his nephew, but he didn't have it in him to answer questions until his arm was set. As Savage opened the door, Brutal knew that at least one of the questions the kid wanted to ask had been answered. Kycina was there, having her injuries tended to for travel. She looked up when they entered, saw them, and excused herself from the healer. She stood and limped slightly around them, going to the door behind them, her hand touching Savage's arm purposely as she did. She smiled up at him quickly, than left. Savage turned to Brutal with a worried look and Brutal limped forward to the healer's cot. When the man had set his arm and wrapped it, Savage seemed to lose patience.

"Uncle, what happened?" he asked, in a tone that forced eye contact.

Brutal met his eyes unflinchingly.

"I surrendered," he said simply.

There was a long moment of silence as Savage's face disintegrated into distress. Brutal's eyebrows furrowed, but there was no easier way to say it.

"Why?" Savage said, his voice cracking.

"Because she had me beaten, that's why," Brutal answered solidly, refusing to let the kid see any weakness, "That's the way the game's played, punk. I had a good run."

"No," Savage choked, and Brutal could hear the warning signs of tears now.

"Hey," he said gruffly, gaining back eye contact with his nephew, "I raised you to be strong. I lived well. Now take my surrender like a Night Brother. Getting all watery eyed does nobody any good."

Savage nodded and squared his bony shoulders. Brutal smiled.

"Now get me back home," he said, standing and leaning against his nephew's shoulder, "I leave in the morning, but I can teach a lesson tonight. Have all the punks come to the hut."

Savage nodded again and helped him home, knocking on Scar's door on the way and telling him to gather their peers. The rest of the night was spent telling his stories, the most important lessons that he'd ever learned, and how exactly the sister had beaten him so they could avoid the same situation. Savage was quiet the whole night, never asking questions.

When the morning sun rose, Brutal stood and began to walk toward the door, a resigned, hard look on his face. The young men all said their quiet goodbyes. All accept Savage. He stood rigid as a statue in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest and his face deliberately blank. Brutal turned and took one last look at the hut he'd built, and then put his hand on the knob. Savage broke free from his statue-like state then, and without warning he rushed over to his uncle and threw his arms around him like he had when he was a kid and had skinned his knee. Brutal clapped his hand on his shoulder a couple of times comfortingly and pushed the boy away. Meeting his nephew's eyes, he gave his one last order.

"Take care of those younger than you," he said.

Savage nodded and Brutal nodded once at him in farewell. Then he turned and walked out of Savage's life forever.

* * *

Almost two years later, Savage had just finished his work for the day and was on his way to the town square to train with Scar. He heard the speeder and stopped in his tracks, hoping Scar hadn't made it to the square yet either. A speeder rushed by and he watched as it did, glad this one wouldn't have a chance at him. Then he turned back and went into his unc… _his_ hut, waiting for the all clear signal. But he was surprised with a visitor before it sounded. The Father entered his hut, took a quick look at him, then gestured for him to follow.

He did follow, followed the Father until they entered town square together. He didn't see a lineup; in fact the square had emptied. But the sister's speeder was still there. Savage had a bad feeling about this. The Father walked into his hut and Savage followed him, as he had still not been dismissed. When he got inside, he saw a woman he'd hoped never to see again, his mother. Kycina looked up a smiled when he came in, but there were tears in her eyes all the same. In her arms was a small, blanket wrapped bundle with a tiny, light orange hand poking out. Savage just stared.

"Savage, this sister has brought with her a child who came of your uncle," the father said, looking sympathetically towards him, "As she is also your mother, you and her child are brothers. You are the closest relative the boy has in the village. Will you tend to him?"

Savage blinked a few times. Then he looked down at the baby in Kycina's arms. He wanted nothing to do with this woman. She was stained with his kin's blood. This child was hers. Accepting him meant accepting some small part of her, and even thinking about it made the bile rise to his throat. It was because of that little creature that his uncle had died. He'd felt his death, five months after he was taken. This kid was the cause.

But it...the little boy was his kin. His uncle had always told him that there was no grudge that could separate kin. His uncle...Savage remembered the last thing his uncle had told him and then made up his mind. This was not Kycina's son, he couldn't bring himself to think of him that way and still accept him. This was his uncle's son, the man who'd been like a father to him, and he would be this boy's brother because they shared the same father, not the same mother. He held out his arms wordlessly towards the baby. Kycina smiled again as a tear escaped her left eye, and then she spoke.

"Hold under his head and behind," she said, placing the infant in his hands, "He's teething, so make sure he has tough things to chew on. His name is Feral."

Savage nodded, feeling numb. Then he turned and left, not even gracing his mother with a second glance. He had to get his little brother home.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, be sure to let me know if there's anything else I could do to improve. Next chapter's coming quickly!**


	4. Tooth and Nail

**Ok, so we're finally to the character of Feral. I really loved what little I saw of the ill fated younger brother that Savage surrendered to save. So when I decided to do something about Savage's past, the first thing that came to mind were scenarios with raising his younger brother. I've only been able to include about half of them, otherwise this would be twenty thousand words long. **

**Also, a rotor is a gardening tool that I'm familiar with and one that farmers still use today. It looks like a giant, four pronged fork with about a three foot handle. The prongs of the fork are long and organized in a square. You shove it into the dirt, rotate it, pull it out, and do it again. It puts air into the soil and makes for healthier plants when you sow the seed. **

* * *

_A warrior is never really unarmed. In fact, they tend to get scarier when disarmed. ~Brutal_

It had been four days and Savage swore he hadn't slept at all. And tonight would be no exception, apparently. He was rudely awoken just as he began to dose by a loud cry from the nearby cradle.

He now had a great deal more respect for the efforts of his uncle. Feral was impossible to deal with. He didn't want to eat, ever, and he cried all the time. And Kycina had been correct in telling him about the kid needing things to chew. What she failed to tell him was that his chew toys would include every piece of wooden furniture the kid could reach. His crib was covered in tooth marks. The kid had even bitten his hand recently! He cried when he put him down, he cried when he picked him up, and he was constantly saying "mama" in a sad little voice that just about killed Savage every time. He was only six months old, for Spirits' sakes! He could have waited until she left him to learn his first word.

Savage sighed as he sat up in bed and turned to his brother's crib beside him. Feral was whimpering and holding up his hands, asking to be picked up. Savage obliged, picking him up and bouncing him a little, blinking sleepily all the while. Little hands reached out and touched his face and he drowsily patted them away, going to the kitchen area on the other side of the hut to mash some fruit for him or something. The little hands kept coming back and he kept moving them out of his face, making a small meal for the kid in hopes he would take the hint and go to sleep.

"Sahvah," a little voice said suddenly, and Savage was immediately awake.

He adjusted the baby in his arms so he could look at him. Feral looked back with wide, innocent grey eyes, sucking on his hand. Savage pulled his hand from his mouth, not wanting him to bite it, and Feral smiled at him for the first time.

"Sahvah," he said again.

Savage blinked. Then he adjusted the baby again and carried him back to the bed, not even bothering with the crib this time.

"Yeah, I'm Savage," he said, settling the baby on his chest, "And I'm right here. Now go to sleep, punk."

* * *

Years passed, as they have the tendency to do, and Savage returned to work every day when Feral was old enough to leave in the Father's care. On one particularly hot day in the summer, he had been working for three hours alongside Scar as always. Work got done faster when you worked as a team. They'd both decided against shirts that day, as they usually did, but it helped them little in the noontime sun. He was aerating the soil of an old field today, and it was mindless but physically challenging work. Scar had tried entertaining them both with jokes earlier in the day, but when the sun came to full height it was too hot to try. He wiped the sweat from his brow and began plunging the rotor into the dirt again. But as he turned it for the fifth time, something tugged on his tunic and he turned to see what it was.

It turned out to be his four-year-old brother, who was covered in sweat and looked incredibly self-satisfid. Beside Feral was a large bucket, filled about half way with water. And behind Feral were a trail of small, damp patches of soil. Savage looked down at him curiously.

"I brought you and Scar some water," he said simply, flailing a little arm in the direction of the bucket.

Scar began chortling behind him and Savage couldn't resist a wide grin. That bucket was half the size of this kid! He had to have been carrying it over his shoulder, which explained the drenched brother and the puddles behind him. Savage reached out and picked the kid up, swinging him in the air once before settling him at his hip, holding him with one arm.

"You carried that all this way?" he asked, getting a smile and a nod from Feral.

"You looked like you would be thirsty," he said, earning another appreciative laugh from Scar and grin from Savage.

"I brought cups too," he said, squirming until Savage put him down.

He then ran over to the bucket, put his hand under the water for a minute, and pulled out two dripping wet mugs. Scar put down his rotor and walked over, taking one of the mugs from Feral's hand.

"Who told you to do this, kid?" he asked, looking at the mug like it was an inspired piece of art.

"Nobody," Feral replied, "I just thought of it."

"You just thought of it?" Scar asked, smiling wide.

"Of course he did," Savage replied, walking over and rubbing the kid's smooth head, "He's my brother. He's got brains."

"Well, I suppose one of you has to," Scar replied, earning a swat from Savage.

The two men drank a few cups of water, praising the boy as they did so, and then Savage stood.

"We have to get back to work now," he said to Feral, earning a serious nod from the child.

"Ok," he said, "But Sahvah?"

"What?" Savage asked, turning around again and trying not to smile at the persistent baby word.

"Since I'm out here now, could I work with you today?" the boy asked.

Savage blinked and Scar laughed again as he stood to return to his own work.

"Why would you want to do that, kid?" Scar asked, "You can go back and get a story from the Father or something."

"I've heard his stories," Feral replied, still looking up at Savage with wide, grey/green eyes, "But when there's more people working, it gets done faster, right?"

Savage grinned widely and picked up his brother again, walking back toward his rotor.

"That's right," Savage said, "And I have the perfect job for you. You grab on to the handle here, and stand on the base there. There you go, now hold on, punk!"

Savage then began to rotate the dirt with his little brother clinging to the rotor and laughing his little kid laugh at this fun new game. Scar chuckled and shook his head at him for adding weight to his tool, but Savage didn't find himself wearing out that easily after that.

* * *

Savage began to worry when his brother hit twelve. Sure, he was great. He was his brother, of course he was great. But he was small. He was almost a head shorter than the other boys his age, skinny as a rail, and only one of his vestigial horns had broken skin so far, earning him the mocking nickname of unicorn among his peers. And sure, Savage smacked the kriff out of any kid he heard saying it, but that could only do so much. Some of the others who cared for younger relatives said that he was just a late bloomer. And Savage remembered that he had been boney and ungraceful at that age. But he also remembered shooting up like a weed, which his little brother didn't appear to be doing.

He'd started daily sparring with Feral when he hit twelve, just as his uncle had with him. And he seemed to be excelling, learning more every day and practicing constantly. But Savage couldn't help but notice that he was practicing alone. When it wasn't the two of them sparring, he would just train on the motions by himself. This earned him more criticism, the boys started to call it the unicorn dance, but Feral just ignored them. At his age, Savage had Scar who he'd spar with and practice with, and if anyone ever gave either of them trouble, he knew he could count on him. Feral didn't seem to have anyone but him. So Savage took the opportunity to bring it up with his brother one day after work as they were walking to the town square.

"Hey, punk," he said, looking down at the kid.

"What?" he replied.

"When those idiots call you names and stuff, why don't you just use a couple of the non-lethal moves I've shown you?" he asked, deciding to throw tact to the wind.

Feral chuckled and bumped him.

"Oh, come on Savage!" he said, shaking his still mostly smooth head.

"No, I'm serious," Savage said, "I know you can take care of yourself. So why don't you pound them?"

"They aren't hurting me," he said, meeting Savage's eyes with a serious expression, "They're just calling names. I don't really care."

"But you don't have any friends your age," Savage said, giving in to the worry nagging at his brain, "I'm just worried that this teasing crap will go too far."

"It won't, Savage," Feral replied as they entered the town square and found and empty spot, "I won't let it. Now, I've been practicing the move you showed me last week, and I think I'm ready to test it out."

Savage took the hint and butted out. This was just something his little brother would have to handle on his own. He and Feral began sparring, and just as Feral'd said, Savage could tell he'd been practicing. The kid moved faster than he had at that age, that was for certain. Sure, he still beat the kid, but it was becoming a challenge. They had just started a second match when large footsteps were heard and Savage's eyes widened. He tapped Feral's shoulder and the two pushed apart, looking toward the sound. A rancor's head was visible coming around the bend, a sister riding on its neck, and Savage and Feral took off without another word trying to reach the edge of the square. But the Father called a lineup and Savage stopped short, just three feet from the border line. Feral turned back with a look of fear, but Savage just waved him off.

"Go home," he said, "I'll be back soon."

* * *

Savage walked home quietly. It hadn't been him that was chosen, he was grateful for that. Feral wasn't ready to be alone. But…

He walked into the house, feeling numb. It was quiet. He didn't see his brother, and the curtain that served to give the kid privacy was wide open. Panicking now, Savage ran outside and started calling his name. He didn't hear a reply, so he ran around the back of the hut to the garden. There he saw his brother sitting, his back facing Savage.

"Feral!" Savage said, well and truly angry now, "I told you to go home! We've done this a hundred times, you know the rules by now! When I say go home, you go home, and you stay inside until I come back! And if I call you, you better answer me _right then_! Do you _hear_ me?!"

Feral nodded but didn't turn around. Savage calmed down then and realized that this wasn't normal. Feral could be a pain in the ass, and half the time both he and Savage knew the younger was the smarter, but one thing he had always been able to count on was trust, even when they were fighting. His brother was unafraid of most everything, but especially Savage. They'd always been able to make eye contact.

"Feral?" Savage asked, stepping forward and kneeling behind him.

Feral still didn't turn, so Savage gently put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. Feral's eyes were red and swollen from tears. One eye was more swollen than the other and beginning to turn purple. But worst of all, there was a small trail of blood running down his forehead from his horn, which had been broken. Savage grabbed his brother's face in his hands and examined the injuries more closely, careful not to push too hard on anything that would hurt. Then the rage he had just managed to suppress exploded again and he grabbed his brother's shoulders, forcing eye contact.

"Who?!" he asked, his voice dropping to an angry growl.

"Nobody," Feral said, meeting his eyes at last.

"No," Savage said, "Who did this Feral? I'll kick his little ass!"

"It's ok, Savage," Feral said, gulping a little as his lungs recovered from his crying, "You don't need to…"

"Punk!" Savage said, pressing his face closer to his brother aggressively, "We've never lied. Ever. You tell me who did this."

Feral looked at Savage for a few minutes then swallowed and spoke again, his voice a little more steady.

"I got in a fight," he said.

"Oh, really?" Savage said sarcastically, earning a wince from Feral.

"All the boys were just tense because of the choice, and someone said they hoped it wasn't their cousin that got picked," Feral said, letting the whole story out at last, "One of the others asked who would he hope to get picked, but he didn't mean that he wanted someone to get chosen. He said it like a challenge, like you shouldn't want anyone to be chosen. But Gore said he hoped it would be you."

Savage blinked a little, trying to remember which one Gore was. The image of a big kid with the facial build of a rancor and the attitude to match came to mind. He'd smacked that kid down twice for picking on Feral.

"What did you say?" Savage asked, sitting back.

"I didn't say anything," Feral replied, looking Savage in the eyes again, "I just handed him his ass."

It came so unexpectedly and Feral said it so seriously, Savage couldn't help but be startled into a small laugh. Feral smiled a little, but the winced and touched his horn gingerly.

"Then what happened to you?" Savage asked, reaching out and wiping the blood away from the horn.

"He got in a couple hits," Feral replied, "But he was the one who surrendered, not me."

Savage looked appraisingly at his kid brother.

"The falling headlock I just taught you," he said, smiling slightly now, "Did you try it? That's what happened to the horn?"

Feral reddened under his pale orange skin and nodded, then smiled devilishly.

"But it hurt him a whole lot worse," he replied, "There's an advantage to having only one horn."

Savage just grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, and then the two sat in silence for a moment before Feral posed a question.

"Who was it?" he asked, his tone and expression older than his years.

"Scar," Savage returned, his expression changing to match.

They sat in silence again for a few moments, and then Savage got up.

"Come on, punk," he said, pulling Feral to his feet, "Let's go get some mineral clay from the healer for that horn."

* * *

When Feral was sixteen, he had changed in almost every way. He'd grown, filled out handsomely, and while he wasn't terribly tall, he wasn't small anymore. His horns had come in. He'd gone through the ceremony of manhood, which pronounced him an adult. And he fought Savage to a standstill on a regular basis, though he'd never beaten his brother. Savage was thirty-five by that point, and beginning to earn the same respect for his age that his uncle had, minus a few years. He'd killed three sisters and sent one away without a surrender.

They still sparred daily in the town square with the other warriors, and Feral showed a great deal of potential. The sisters had always used magic to do showy things, things that the men could (or would) never do. But the men had some magic of their own to use. They used it to increase their strength, lengthen their jumps, and aid their reflexes. It may not have been as showy as the sisters' magic, but it was useful in a fight, and that was all that mattered.

Savage had learned about how to put a rancor's weight behind his punch when he was sixteen. His uncle had taught him, saying he'd need the brutality of it for a fight. He could only do it when he was angry or afraid, but in a fight with a sister that wasn't too hard to come by. Now, it was Feral's turn.

"You just have to think through it," he tried to explain as his brother listened, "You have to take that fear or hate, and use it. Tell yourself, _I will hit with more force that I physically can. _And you will. Tell yourself, _I will not move_. And you won't. The Father says that the focus pleases the Spirits, especially the Fanged God, and they send you power."

Feral's only response was a skeptical look, and Savage laughed a little.

"I know, it sound ridiculous," he said, "But here, I'll prove it to you. Try to move me."

Savage took a strong stance and began to channel the Spirits, cementing himself to the ground. Feral took him in a grapple hold, putting his hand on Savage's shoulders and trying to pull him down. Savage just grabbed Feral's upper arms and focused, looking his brother in the eyes. They wrestled strength for a while, or, rather, Feral wrestled and Savage stayed firm. Then the lesson was interrupted by the sound of a sister's speeder.

* * *

When the sister said Feral was acceptable to her, Savage had one thought. _Kill_. She'd taken him along too, and he was glad of that. That meant he could go through with it. The first two challenges had been terrifying enough, with the sister killing men he'd watch grow, men he'd grown with, as if they were cattle. Now, it was just him and Feral, completely unarmed.

They ran into the moving columns and Savage led the way. They took to the tops of the columns when the sister went to the ground. Savage channeled the Spirits and jumps easily from one to the next. But in his hurry to ambush the sister, he'd forgotten his brother's injured ribs from the previous challenge. With a yell, Feral had fallen down to the ground where the sister was, and now Savage had only moments to find him before she did. When he heard his brother grunt as if being hurt, he ran faster, jumping to the ground and tearing between the columns. He caught sight of the sister holding up her hand and doing some strange magic without chant, somehow choking his brother.

He ran forward, attacked the sister. She lost focus and Feral dropped to the ground behind him, choking in air.

"As long as I live, you _will not harm him!_" he growled, taking an aggressive stance between the witch and his brother.

They fought and he fended her off, earning a look of surprise and, Spirits help him, admiration.

"Please," he said, knowing that she wanted him now anyway, "Spare him. Take me."

The witch considered for a moment, and then looked over his shoulder at Feral.

"Leave us."

After that, Savage did try. She could only take him if she won. He'd killed these witches before and he'd do it again. But this one was different. She moved differently, fought differently, better than any he'd ever faced. She landed far more hits on him than he could on her, and after one particularly hard hit to the face he fell, landing on a moving platform on his back. Then she was there over him, her foot on his throat. He had no more options.

"My life…" he wheezed, twisting to try to breathe, "…is yours."

_And my brother's life is safe._

* * *

**And that's this chapter. Hey, if you wouldn't mind, could somebody please review if they like it? I know people have been reading, and I've gotten a fave, but I find your lack of feedback disturbing.**


	5. Enchanted Blade

**Here's another chapter for you guys. I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. And thanks to Andrea for being the first to review! I did get it, but not until the next chapter was already up. And for the other reviews, they made me feel so much better!**

* * *

_Enchanted blades are blessed (or cursed) with the sisters' strongest magic. If you ever find yourself in possession of one, it probably means you're in over your head. ~Brutal_

Savage awoke in a blur. He remembered little of what was going on around him, even how he came to be where he was. He felt…strange. Clouded. And every instinct told him that he was in danger. He looked around, trying to force his eyes to stay focused but his vision blurred at short intervals anyway. And then he saw a face he knew he remembered and didn't like, though he didn't really know why. But he reacted on instinct and grabbed her by the neck, intent on killing her. He didn't squeeze right away and crush her windpipe, however, because his hand felt…wrong. Big. He didn't understand.

"Let me go!" the woman gurgled.

Savage knew he hated this woman. That was all he knew at the moment. And he sure as the Spirits wasn't going to let go now, when she was in his…freakishly large hand. Then another voice broke in.

"Calmly, sister," it said.

Sister? That word had importance, but he couldn't remember what it was.

"_Let. Me. Go,_" the woman said, and Savage found himself compelled to do as he was told, though it didn't make any sense.

He didn't know what was going on. Sister…seemed like a menacing word from what little association he could put with it, but maybe it wasn't. Just then, everything seemed menacing. Maybe they could tell him what was going on. Savage sat up and looked around him, then swung his feet off the…stone table? He stood and felt very dizzy and very…tall, but he maintained his footing. He didn't trust these…sisters…for a minute and he knew that he shouldn't show weakness in front of people he didn't trust. Someone had told him that, once.

"Now, for the final test," the sister who he'd choked said, "Bring out the prisoner."

Two other sisters carried a young man forward and threw him at Savage's feet. The man gasped in pain, holding his chest, and then looked up at him.

"Savage," he said, his eyes widening in shock and recognition.

Yes, that was his name. He knew that much. And he knew this boy, though he didn't remember exactly how. But this was the first person his instincts didn't tell him to kill on sight, so maybe they were friends? He seemed like he was more than that, but Savage just…couldn't remember.

"Kill him," the sister beside him ordered, and he looked back down at the boy unsurely.

"Savage," the boy said in a reasoning voice, "You know me. I am your kin. Do not do this."

Savage blinked. Kin? That word meant something to him, he knew that much. It meant something…

SLAP!

"I said," the sister hissed angrily, "_Kill him."_

His face stung from the blow and he was stunned into compliance. He stepped forward and took the boy by the neck, lifting him from the ground. The boy squirmed and spoke frantically. Savage could sense this fear, and without his consent his body began to react to it.

"Brother!" he said, the fear taking hold of his face, "_Brother, please!_"

"You beg?" a deep gravelly voice he didn't recognize said harshly, "Weakling!"

"_Savage!_" the boy croaked in pain, then was silent.

When his hand turned there was a crack. The boy went limp in his hand. It was then that his mind processed the word the boy said. Brother. Savage dropped the body and stepped back from it, suddenly feeling he'd just seen or…oh, Spirits, _done_. He'd just done something very wrong, and he didn't even understand why. He knew now that this boy meant a lot to him, though he still didn't remember why. This must be a dream. He would never kill...

"Good," the sister said, "Very good. You will learn to draw your strength from your emotions. _Hate_ will feed you. Never sympathize with the enemy, not even for a moment."

But which was his enemy? Confused, Savage just answered as well as he could.

"Yes, sister," he said, his voice still unfamiliar.

"For you," another woman said, who wore more elaborate clothes that somehow moved of their own will, "An enchanted blade, blessed with our most potent magics."

Savage looked at the weapon, still shocked and confused by what had just happened. He knew he'd been told something about such a weapon before, something important, but if his mind had been blurry before the boy, it was now exploding with confusion.

"I think it's time we introduce the apprentice to his new master," the sister said to the one in the odd robes, "Wouldn't you agree?"

Savage just stared at the weapon as they spoke. It gave him a bad feeling, but she had just told him that he was supposed to be…fed by those, whatever that meant. Finally, frustrated, he snatched the thing out of the air beside him, where it was floating. The sister looked over to him and spoke in a tone with authority.

"Come, Savage," she said, walking forward.

He followed behind her, knowing that if there was one thing he was supposed to do, it was to obey this sister. Apparently.

They came to a large room full of machines of some sort and the sister turned to him.

"Do exactly as Mother Talzin says," she ordered, gesturing to the woman in the robes following behind.

"Yes, sister," he replied again.

Then he followed this Mother Talzin onto one of the machines and it began to move under him. He didn't like it, but Mother Talzin told him to stay seated and calm, so he did. The machine moved for a while, and then lurched and was somewhat more still, though Savage still felt as if he was in motion. But weariness was taking hold of him, and he leaned back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. Maybe things would be clearer when he awoke.

* * *

Savage awoke to the feeling of movement under him. He started and sat up, stiffening. He was in a starship. How did he get here? He thought carefully for a moment and remembered being told by…somebody to get onto the ship after they told him to follow them. Savage shook his head a little, trying to clear it. He had a weapon in his hand, a long blade. He focused on it and remembered it was given to him after…Spirits. Savage remembered.

He remembered standing up and he remembered seeing his brother. He remembered Feral trying to reason with him. Then he had taken him in hand, called him a weakling, and broken his neck. Savage sat back with a blank expression, stunned. This had to be a dream. He couldn't really be on a starship, he wasn't surrounded by two sisters and Mother Talzin, and he _could not_ have killed Feral. These were just things that could never happen. _Would_ never happen. This was a dream. _This was a dream!_

The ship lurched a little and he felt it set down for a landing beneath him. Mother Talzin turned to him quickly, before the doors opened.

"Come forward when I say your name," she said into his ear.

Then the door opened and the sisters stood and walked out. Mother Talzin followed them, leaving him where he sat. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real.

Mother Talzin was talking now, and he remembered that he was supposed to come when she called him, though the ever elusive "Why?" was still unanswered.

"…present," she said, her tone grand, "Savage Opress!"

Savage stood and took a few steps, then paused at the top of the runway. He felt huge and clumsy, like he wasn't at home in his own body. But he stepped forward again and came to stand beside Mother Talzin, stabbing his weapon into the ground beside him for stability.

There was a man before him, a human off-worlder with silver hair and a beard. He began to speak in a deep voice.

"He certainly is a sight to behold," he said, looking up at him with awe.

"The fiercest of his kind," Mother Talzin replied, as if trying to sell a nice piece of meat, "He shall serve you well."

Savage felt his grip tighten on his blade. _The only of his kind._

"Yes," the man replied, smiling slightly now, "He shall."

Savage realized that he had just been given to this man as a slave. Or, rather, traded owners. So he went to a knee to show humility, and to hide the hopeless expression that came to his face. _The only of his kind, by his own hand. _His life was not his own. It never was.

* * *

A few days after Mother Talzin left him with his new master, whose name was Dooku, he was summoned to his master's presence. He went quickly to the room he was called to, following the droid that was sent to fetch him from the room that had been given to him. When he arrived, he stood before a holo-projector, and Dooku began to speak to him.

"Mother Telzin speaks very highly of your abilities," he began, "But I will require proof of your skill as a warrior."

Savage's face tightened. Here it came, at last. Whatever it was that this man wanted from him, Savage knew he had to do it. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"The Jedi are in control of a vital outpost on the jungle planet of Devaron," he said, bringing up a hologram that Savage assumed was the building he referred to, "A temple."

"A temple?" Savage asked.

A temple was a revered place, not an outpost.

"Do not be fooled, Savage," Dooku said quickly, "The Temple of Eedit serves only as a front for the military operations of the Republic. It is essential that we take that temple, if we ever wish to take control of that corner of the galaxy. You shall go to Devaron and take what is rightfully ours."

"Yes, my lord," Savage replied.

* * *

When Savage arrived on the planet, he saw a battle going on outside the temple. He stepped out of his ship and ran through the droids, shoving them aside. One of the men resisting the machines, who wore white armor, shot off a blaster bolt at him. He didn't dodge in time, he barely manage to move his unfamiliarly massive body, and expected a fiery pain. It barely even stung, so he ran forward with renewed confidence. The men in white were overwhelmed quickly, and Savage walked forward towards the sound of blaster bolts from the few remaining droids. He saw them fall, and saw laser sword…lightsabers, and knew he'd found his target.

"Jedi," he said in challenge.

One of the wielders of the strange weapons stepped forward. The one behind him called out to him, calling him master, but the older told him to stay back. That was a mistake.

The fight began and Savage called on the Spirits to increase his reflexes. Their aid came a lot easier than before, but he didn't have time to ponder it. The Spirits threw his hand up in time to catch the other's weapon arm at the wrist and twist, disarming him. The Jedi fought honorably, kicking and jumping around Savage athletically, but Savage had a mission to complete. So he delivered a hard blow and swept his blade below his opponent, driving him to the ground, then impaled him.

"NO!" the younger Jedi screamed.

Savage looked up and saw the boy begin to charge at him impulsively. He dodged the youth's reckless lightsaber swing, then brought an upward slash across his chest, the force of which slammed him against the nearby temple wall. He fell to the ground, completely limp, and Savage walked over to the door of the Temple, stepping over his body.

Satisfied that his job was done, Savage pulled out the com device that his master had given him. He had Dooku's com signal on what was called "speed dial" so that he only had to push one button to contact him. This was good, because the buttons were tiny and his fingers were a lot bigger than they used to be. Dooku's image came from the little device and Savage made his report.

"My Lord?" he began.

"Is it finished?" his master asked in return.

"The temple is taken," Savage answered.

"And the Jedi?" Dooku asked, sounding critical.

"Dead," Savage replied, disgust wrinkling his nose.

"Very impressive, Savage," his master said, sounding genuine in his compliment, "Return to Serenno immediately."

"Very well, my Lord," Savage answered, and the com signal ended.

Savage began down the steps to return to his ship and stopped once to look down at the body of the young Jedi. He couldn't have been very old. But his face tightened and he started forward again towards his ship. He already had the blood of one such boy on his hands, the only person he had left in the galaxy. Why should he care about these?

* * *

**The next chapter is going to be very long, just warning you. Lots of plot to cover. And thanks again for the reviews, I'm hoping for a few more!**


	6. Saberstaff

**Sorry this chapter took so long. The next one will be here soon!**

* * *

_A staff is a strong man's weapon, used mainly by the large, stubborn, or physically imposing. But don't mistake a brutish body for a dull mind. ~Brutal_

Savage was sent on another mission shortly after the first. He'd killed a Hut who'd allied himself with the Republic, taking out his entire operation and limiting supplies to the Republic's cause. He was lying in wait for the Jedi that was coming to protect the Hut, but his master had called him back before he could complete his trap. While it irked him to be forced to give up valuable prey for his master's whims, he was aware of the reasons for his return.

He knew it had something to do with the plans Dooku had shared with him on his return from the Temple mission, plans of ruling the galaxy. He said they could be more powerful than Lord Sideous, Dooku's own master, and that he would become a warrior to rival the sith called Darth Maul. While he didn't know who Darth Maul was, something about the way his master had said it implied that he was very strong. Savage liked that idea. If he got strong enough, maybe he could free himself. And he had the sense to know that the real training was about to begin.

When he arrived, his master was sitting cross legged on the ground in an empty room. Savage blinked and fidgeted nervously when the droid just turned and left, its job done. Was he supposed to approach now, or wait until called?

"Come forward, my apprentice," Dooku said, breaking the silence.

Savage did so. He stepped forward to stand before Dooku, feeling even more hugely out of proportion with his master on the ground like that.

"Sit," Dooku ordered.

"Yes, Master," Savage replied, sitting before him and mirroring his posture but not feeling any less out of place.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Dooku spoke again.

"What do you know of the Force?" he asked, his eyes searching.

Savage's only answer was a furrowed brow. What force?

"I see," Dooku said condescendingly, "We shall have to begin with the basics, then."

Savage reddened slightly at his ignorance. This force his master spoke of must be common knowledge to off-worlders.

"The Force is energy," Dooku began, "It is created by every life form in the galaxy, just as every life form is a part of it. It surrounds and penetrates us, binding the galaxy together."

Savage nodded to acknowledge the new information, as that was all he could think of to do.

"Some sentients are able to channel this energy through them," Dooku continued, "They are called Force-sensitive. For example."

As he said this, Dooku lifted his hand. At first Savage didn't understand what he was doing, but then he felt a stirring, like the Spirits moving around him, and a cylinder of metal, about half a meter in length, began floating towards them from the corner of the room where it had been hidden by shadows. He watched, fascinated, as the cylinder floated to Dooku's hand and his master grasped it and set it before his legs, between him and Savage. Savage looked up, awe plainly visible in his eyes.

"You can do magic?" he asked.

"No, not magic," Dooku said, sounding patronizing again, "The Force. I have been trained in how to use its energy. And through the Force, I have gained and will continue to gain much power. Through power, I will gain victory. In victory, my chains are broken. The Force frees me."

Savage nodded, now well and truly fascinated. It reminded him of the magic of the sisters, but the way his master described it, it sounded even more powerful.

"I wish to train you in the Force, Savage," Dooku said, sounding like it was a great gift he was giving, "You are naturally talented in battle, and highly Force-sensitive. I can teach you to harness this power."

Savage's eyes widened. That his master had power was to be expected; all those who claimed to be above someone else had power of one sort or another. But that he offered to share this power with one under him baffled Savage to no end.

"You would teach me, my Lord?" he asked, sounding skeptical but trying to be respectful, "What would you have me do in return?"

Dooku actually smiled when he said this. At least he did something right.

"You ask the right question, Savage," he said plainly, "When you arrived home from your first mission, I offered to teach you in the ways of the sith. This is that offer. I will teach you of the Force, but only if you are completely loyal to me. You will be an apprentice, and I will be your master. Do you understand?"

Savage did understand. He understood that he belonged to this man, that his life was not his own because of him, and that Dooku seemed to delight in pointing that out. But he nodded and answered humbly, not wanting to receive punishment.

"I am your servant, my Master," he said, repeating his statement from when he'd first arrived after Eedit.

Dooku smiled again and Savage tried not to let his loathing show.

"Good," Dooku replied curtly, then, "Now, we will begin. Try to feel the force around you, reach out with your feelings."

Savage did as he asked. He thought this Force must be very must like the Spirits, so he began by reaching to them, so that he could grasp something familiar. To his surprise, Dooku made a small sound and spoke.

"Good," he said, his expression surprised, "You do this easily, much more so than any pupil I've had before. Are you certain you've never used the Force before?"

Savage nodded his head at first, but then thought about it. What is the Force was just the off-worlder word for the Spirits? His face became uncertain and he nodded his head slightly as he began to speak.

"I learned how to channel the Spirits when I was young," he said, trying not to cringe as his master rolled his eyes, "They lengthened your jumps, strengthened your body. Perhaps the Spirits and the Force are similar?"

At this, Dooku raised his eyebrows. He nodded once and then answered.

"The Night Sisters are a strange cult," he said, "But they are highly sensitive to the Force and have developed their own uses for it. I do believe that they refer to it as "the spirits." However, that is a provincial term used to describe something they do not fully understand. You have some rudimentary knowledge of the Force, whether you called it spirits or not. Now you must unlearn what you have learned, and teach yourself only by my words. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Savage answered.

"Now, since you are so capable of connecting with the Force," Dooku continued, "Reach out with it. Feel the force around this weapon, and use it to carry the object to your hand."

Savage looked down at the weapon uncertainly. He didn't know about Dooku; he was an off-worlder and perhaps different rules applied to him. But, whether his master called it that or not, this was most certainly magic and he wasn't sure he could do it. Certainly he'd excelled at the male magic, the enhancement magic, but this was completely different. However he'd just seen it done and his master was watching him expectantly. He at least had to give it a try.

Tentatively, Savage reached to the Spi…to the Force again, feeling it rush into him more easily than it ever had before the day he left Dathomir. He looked at the cylinder on the ground and focused around it, holding out his hand as his master had. It twitched, slightly, which surprised Savage into letting go of his focus.

"Concentrate," his master reprimanded when he looked up, and Savage tried again.

The object twitched again, but Savage didn't relent this time. It began to slide across the floor, lifted only at the top, but Savage didn't let go until it touched his hand and he could grab it. It was a strange object, unlike anything he'd seen before, but he reached out to hand it back to his master.

"No, Savage," Dooku said, pushing the cylinder back towards him, "You have done well. This is a beginning that carries much promise. This weapon is your reward. It is called a saberstaff."

Savage pulled his hand back and examined the thing more closely, glancing up at his master intermittently. Weapon? It was a little small to be effective, wasn't it?

"Allow me you instruct you in its mechanics," Dooku said to the confused look on his face.

For the next hour, Dooku taught him how the saberstaff worked. Savage listened, only asked questions when prompted, and absorbed whatever information he could. He didn't understand why this stranger would teach him things like this, especially when Savage liked him little and he had to know that. But he also had a strange sort of respect for him by the time they finished the lesson, an admiration for his ability.

* * *

When his master challenged him to a sparring match with the new weapon, Savage was hesitant. It was an alien object and his master obviously knew how to use his own lightsaber better than Savage knew this saberstaff. But he was a warrior. He would never turn down an opportunity to a spar, especially one he could learn from.

Throughout the match, he found himself constantly at odds with his body. He was big and awkward where he had been lean and trained, his limbs did not move as swiftly as they did before. He had a great deal more strength, but strength is pointless without direction. Savage tried to attack Dooku, tried to use his greater size and strength. But both he and his master knew that he was clumsy and awkward. Dooku deflected him easily, landing him in a heap on the floor.

"You have no technique," he reprimanded.

Savage stood again and attacked, his saber meeting that of his master. Then Dooku maneuvered the weapon and it went flying from his hand. Savage barely had time to register that before he was being lifted in the air by the throat, his master holding him the same way he had the saberstaff. He gagged for a half second and was dropped to the ground, only to hear another insult.

"Sloppy," Dooku growled.

Savage lost it then. He may not know how to use the weapon that had been placed in his hand, and this new body made moving harder, but he was a warrior. He charged at Dooku and was thrown to the ground, a lightsaber uncomfortably close to his face. Then his master called the saberstaff to his other hand and put the two blades across his throat in a V shape. Savage looked up at him, now somewhat alarmed.

"With the proper training, you could be a powerful warrior," Dooku said, meeting his eyes, "You have a natural ability. But we must hone it. Are you up for the challenge of putting your hatred to better use?"

Savage blinked as the weapons deactivated and Dooku handed him the saberstaff. Then he bowed down to show his respect and answered his master's question.

"Yes, Master."

* * *

Weeks of training had gone by, with each lesson growing more painful or humiliating. Or both. Savage limped his way back to his chamber, still feeling unsteady on his feet after the lesson. Dooku had said that it was to strengthen his connection with the Force, and Savage had to admit that it had been easier when he was angry.

He opened the door and entered his chamber, lying painfully on his cot. The bed was too short for him and his legs hung off the end, but he sure as hell wasn't going to Dooku for a new one. He didn't understand that man. On one hand, he was a powerful warrior and an effective teacher, for which Savage almost admired him. But then he showed his callus, cruel ideals and utter disregard for Savage, and he could only hate him all the more.

Savage's muscles still twitched slightly from the shock that Dooku had sent through them, and he turned on his side and curled up like a sleeping nek on the cot, trying to relax. It had felt like a thousand sparkflies had landed on him. He'd never known that kind of pain. It had gotten to the point that he lifted the pillars Dooku had wanted him to lift simply to end the suffering.

But Savage was exhausted. He calmed himself with slow breaths and tried to let go of the pain and the anger, knowing that he'd never rest otherwise. Instead, he thought of home. And while some thoughts also brought anger with them, he focused on the memories of times when life was simple, before the sisters had destroyed it all. Within a few minutes he'd fallen asleep.

* * *

Savage was sent on another mission shortly after that curt introduction to force lightning. When his master summoned him to the dock, Savage started immediately after the droid. His master had announced to him that he was going to go on another mission, to capture the Toydarian king, Katuunko, and bring him back to his master. Savage accepted the mission gratefully, knowing that it was a sign of his master's trust. The balance of admiration and hatred for Dooku had finally settled, and while he still hated the man and everything he stood for, Savage also knew he wanted his approval.

So there he was, saberblade cutting weakness into the reinforced door. When he'd cut an X shape into it, he shoved it with the Force, using the power he'd only recently harnessed, and the door flew inward, taking out the two Toydarian soldiers who'd come to cut him off. He ran forward and the other soldiers surrounding the king attacked him. It was a short lived attempt. Savage did away with them easily and took a lift up to where the king sat. The diminutive creature held himself with a proud air, and pulled a knife when Savage got closer.

"I will not be intimidated," he said surely.

Savage had to respect him for that. But he was the target, and just like the Jedi, his honor couldn't save him. He swung the knife at Savage and Savage cut it off. It clanged its way to the ground and the king tried to fly away, but Savage grabbed his leg and smacked him against the wall, knocking him unconscious. He jumped back on the lift, his target secured, when it all went wrong.

He looked behind him to see two Jedi running in. They both jumped onto a lift and rose in ready positions, clearly aiming to overwhelm him. Savage jumped onto the same lift as the elder Jedi, who deflected his blows and jumped to another lift. Then the younger Jedi used the Force to push the forth lift into his, probably trying to unbalance him. Worse, though, the jolt of the lifts colliding awoke his target, and the Toydarian struggled and got loose of Savage's grasp. He flew away and the Jedi were on him, holding him down. He reached out and grabbed the king by the throat as his master had once grabbed him. The Jedi continued to fight and his focus was conflicted. He couldn't keep it up for long. So he decided that bringing the target back dead was better than showing up empty handed. With a quick twist in the force, he broke the fragile neck of the Toydarian and the king fell to the ground, never to fly away again. Then he turned on the Jedi and threw them from the lift. They grabbed hands and the younger clung to the lift, but Savage didn't hesitate. He crushed the fingers of the Jedi under his foot, forcing him to let go, then stabbed his saber into the ground and dropped the lift on top of them both. Running now, as he sensed that they survived, he grabbed the dead Toydarian and ran back out to the ship.

Thinking quickly, he focused the Force through him and pushed the Jedi's ship off the side of the wall. They couldn't follow him now. He ducked into the ship, stepped over the body, and took flight to his master's cruiser in orbit. He'd simply have to explain when he got there.

* * *

Savage flew in the ship he'd stolen to escape from the droids, departing from Dathomir with a new mission. In less than an hour, his entire life had turned on its head. Again. He should really be used to this by now.

First Dooku hadn't even allowed him the chance to explain before he began to punish him, torturing him with force lightning while Savage could only cringe in pain of the floor and wait for it to end. Then, the witch had arrived. The pain stopped when the door opened, and he turned on his hands and knees to Dooku, who told him to kill her to correct his mistake. He stood, trying to steady himself, and before he could react she tapped his forehead with her finger, telling him to remember his true loyalties. His mind blurred like the day he'd first awoken this way, and then cleared, now including the memories of her and her relationship to him. He belonged to her. He could not disobey her, much less kill her.

He turned on Dooku and fought him with the witch, and they almost won together. But the lightning was still too much for him to bear, and he had no way to defend himself. He told her that Dooku was too powerful, and in one mind-breaking moment, both of them rejected him, and his mind cleared like it hadn't since the day he was taken. He remembered everything. Who'd fought him and taken him from his home like an animal. Who'd told him to kill Feral when he couldn't make his own choices. And Dooku, who'd tortured him while he was defenseless and forced him to be a murdering dog with no honor. He realized that he hated both of these equally, and even more liberating, he didn't feel the irresistible urge to obey either of them anymore.

He'd fought them both for a while, and did fairly well, but they'd combined their powers and thrown him away, jumping into a tunnel one after the other and shutting him out. Then the Jedi he'd fought before somehow found him again, and he fought them as they wove through the hallways of the cruiser. They reached the docking bay and the droids began to fire at him. He tried to deflect the blows, but there were too many and he took hit after hit, painful sting after painful sting. Finally, he let go a primal scream in the Force and everything on two feet fell, allowing him to run to the ship Dooku had let him use and escape.

When he was free from fire, he thought of where he should go and immediately the image of Mother Talzin came to his mind. He didn't know why, especially knowing everything she did to him, but he still felt loyalty to her somehow. It was almost as if his subconscious trusted her completely where his conscious mind knew he could not. He knew this probably had something to do with the magic which he now realized had been used in changing him; like the strong urge towards obedience he'd been feeling before towards Dooku and Ventress, trusting Mother Talzin was not his choice. But, having nowhere else to go and injured from his fights, he set his course for Dathomir and arrived within a day.

He had come to Mother Talzin weak, injured, and completely alone, confiding Ventress's betrayal and his confusion and fear to her. Mother Talzin then told him that he would have a new teacher, a brother who had been living in exile. At the moment Mother Talzin said the word brother, all thoughts of his enemies and fears vanished from Savage's mind. He had a brother.

So, here he was now, trying to find a brother he'd never known. He would bring him back to show Mother Talzin that the mission was accomplished, and then the two of them would be free. Savage didn't even know what he'd say when he found him. Probably tell him that they were kin and that he'd protect him, or something of the sort. He had kin again, and Savage didn't even care about becoming a sith or fighting the Jedi anymore. All he could think of was how much time they had lost, and how much catching up they would have to do. Was his brother like him, or clever like Feral had been? How did he escape Dathomir, the sisters? He was a red male, bright red too, and Savage knew they would have found him pretty. They'd never trade him as a slave. He'd seen his face in Talzin's skrying ball, and while he didn't look a lot like Savage, he looked a great deal like their younger brother. That face had burned into Savage's mind and would never leave, not even after this mysterious brother was found.

His brother lived in exile, and so would he. They could live away from all other people and he would never let anything happen to this one. No witches could claim his brother now, he could protect him better than he ever could Feral. They would find land somewhere that nobody cared about and grow their own crops to take care of themselves, probably taking the occasional bounty hunting job to get by. They could make that work; they could be free. Savage had something back that he had thought he'd lost on the day Feral died. He had hope.

* * *

**And that's this chapter. Poor Savage doesn't know what he's in for.**


	7. Zhaboka

**Here's the next chapter! This one's a little long, but I think I got everything covered that I needed to in it. The next chapter will be even longer! **

**By the way, thanks for reading! This is the second to last chapter, and I just want to say that this has been fun. In my last fanfic, I said writing was like running a daycare in my head. This has been more like watching a play, since the plot was already laid out mostly and all. But I'm still going to miss it when it's finished. **

**Oh, well! I still have my Monster in Paris Drabbles to refill my daycare! Thanks guys!**

* * *

_When you hold a Zhaboka, you hold a piece of our culture in your hand. The witches can take away everything else, but we are still at our core Zabrak. We are brothers. Remember that. ~Brutal_

Savage sat in silence for almost three hours just watching. His hunt was over now, at least; he'd found his brother.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. He thought maybe his brother would be antisocial or in some kind of trouble, since he was living in exile. Savage wouldn't have cared if he was in trouble, as he had a price or two on his head as well. And he was well used to antisocial people, feeling like he was becoming one himself lately. He had searched for months, scouring the area that Mother Talzin had mentioned as his brother's likely location for any signs of him. The pendant she'd given him was somehow designed to sense the presence of his brother, which had proven invaluable in finding him. And after all that time, after all the searching, he'd finally found him.

Savage watched his brother. Somehow he'd attached himself to the remains of a spider-like droid and he raved around in his cave. Sometimes he paced, talking to himself as if there was someone else there beside him, and sometimes he just grunted in little, tormented, feral noises. Savage watched him with pity and fear, sensing the pain that simple movement caused his long lost kin. He was badly injured and fragile, not to mention the obvious insanity. He knew he had to find a way to bring him back to the ship, but when he'd tried to communicate with him it had only inflamed him more. And now he carried on as before, acting as if he was completely alone. Savage was sure that his brother was aware of his presence, as he reacted whenever he made the slightest motion or sound, but he was ignoring him for some reason.

"Brother?" Savage said, his voice carrying well in the echoing cave.

"No!" his brother barked back, waving his hand dismissively and looking away from Savage entirely, "Never, no, no!"

"Brother, I'm going to go to my ship," Savage said slowly, standing at an equally gradual pace so as not to spook the madman.

"Freedom," his brother said, suddenly beginning to scuttle in a tight circle, "Freedom is a lie, an illusion of power that no man holds. None of us is free…"

Savage's brow wrinkled at that sad glimpse into his brother's psyche then he turned to leave. His brother had been in this cave for "years and years" and hadn't managed to kill himself yet. He could stand to be left alone for the time it would take to bring the ship closer. If he could get back to the ship Savage could get the blaster the ship's former owner had onboard and perhaps lightly stun his brother. The thought was not appealing, knowing how dangerous that could be to his brother's health, but it would get him onto the ship.

He walked slowly away, not turning fully away from his brother until he was into the tunnel a few yards. Savage walked resolutely, looking down at the charm around his neck and thinking. He hadn't been walking long when he heard something behind him and looked back. He caught a flash of movement in his peripheral vision and focused on it just in time to see a metallic leg disappear into a crevice.

"Brother?" he called out.

Only silence answered him. Savage turned around and walked toward where the leg had disappeared, looking in and seeing a faint glimmer reflecting off his brother's eyes.

"Are you following me?" he asked, trying to communicate again.

"No!" the feral voice replied.

"Ok, then," Savage said, half tempted to roll his eyes, and he continued towards the exit of the tunnel.

The scuttling behind him resumed, but this time Savage knew better than to turn back. He reached out in the Force towards his brother, and found the other's presence to be strangely inviting. His brother wasn't following him to kill and/or eat him, that much he knew. But the real motivation for his actions was clouded in the shroud of pain and confusion that was his brother's presence. Savage didn't look back at him, but he did speak to him again.

"Is there something you need, brother?" he asked.

"No!" his brother barked back, and this time Savage did roll his eyes.

He felt like he was talking to Feral when he was two and the only word he wanted to say was no.

* * *

Soon he came to the exit of the tunnel and stepped out after looking for a minute to be certain there wasn't anything dangerous waiting for him. He had taken two steps when he heard his brother speak again.

"No!" his voice said, this time sounding deliberately hushed.

Savage stifled his frustration and turned back. His brother's head was just visible, poking out of the entrance, and he met his eyes for the first time since Savage had found him.

"No to what?" he said, knowing his brother must be trying to communicate something.

Instead of a verbal answer, he pulled his head back into the entrance and then poked it back out, like a cautious animal that was unwilling to leave its burrow. Savage understood. He been living on this planet for years, and judging by the state of his cave he'd done his best to make it difficult to enter without his knowledge. He was heavily injured and to most natural predators he would seem an easy target. His tunnel and the mystery it provided made him the predator instead of the prey. In his fractured mind, leaving it would be akin to suicide.

"Don't worry," Savage said, trying to sooth him, "There's nothing out here that the two of us couldn't handle together."

"No," his brother replied, this time giving him a look of frank refusal.

Savage almost laughed in spite of himself. It was just such a sarcastic, almost normal facial expression; it was something he'd never expect from this man.

"Ok, if you don't want to come you don't have to," Savage replied, turning away again, "I'm just going to my ship. I'll be back."

He heard a scuffle behind him and turned to see his brother out of the cave up to his shoulders, looking almost desperate.

"No!" he barked at him, reaching towards him with his right hand.

"It's ok," Savage said, turning to walk away again despite the begging look on his brother's face, "I'll be fine."

"Idiot," the voice in the cave replied.

Savage turned back at that with an incredulous look. His brother had sunk back down so that only his eyes were above the entrance, and he was glaring at him. Savage waved his arms slightly, smiling now.

"I'm out in the open, have been for a while now," he said in an encouraging voice, "Nothing has tried to eat me yet!"

That argument would probably have been more convincing if an ambush hadn't sprung the moment it left his mouth. Where everything had been silent there was suddenly the sound of rustling cloaks, creaking mechanics, and blaster bolts. Savage cussed in surprise and deflected the bolts with his saberstaff, looking to see who was shooting. Small, crouched over forms revealed another party of the junkers, this one much larger than the one he had faced coming in. His brow knit when one of the bolts from their improvised sniper rifles found its way through his defense, stinging his ribs. He continued to concentrate and surrendered his control to the Force, allowing his reflexes to become better than they ever could be. Bolts flew back to their senders and the party gradually shrunk, but they weren't giving up.

When Savage heard the noise behind him, he turned around to face whatever had been sneaking up on him. He found a junker, already inside his defense, with a blaster aimed. He inwardly cussed again and begun swinging his saberstaff, knowing the swing would come too late and the bolt would hit him at close range. Then, without warning, the junker fell forward and the bolt went zinging past Savage's ear. His brother had tripped the creature from behind. He then jumped on top of it, killed it with his bare hands, and let out a primal Zabraki roar that terrified even Savage. Sure enough, the junkers all began to shriek and flee, leaving Savage to stare at his brother in surprise.

"Brother?" he asked, taking a few steps closer.

He received no answer, as his brother seemed to be ignoring him again, this time in favor of the junker carcass. He'd stripped the chest plate by the time Savage got to him, and looked as if he was about ready to begin eating it. Savage felt the bile rise to his throat and swallowed, speaking again.

"Brother, no," he said, crouching beside him, "Don't eat that."

His brother looked up at him with a questioning expression.

"Mine," he snarled, pointing to it.

"Of course," Savage said, not wanting to set himself at odds with his brother's predatory instincts, "It's yours. But I have something better."

As he said this, he pulled out a ration wafer from his armor, which he'd taken with him from the ship. As soon as it was visible, his brother's eyes were locked on it longingly.

"Do you want to trade me for it?" Savage asked, moving the bar side to side and watching as his brother's eyes followed it, "You don't really want to eat that sickly thing, do you?"

His brother's eyes narrowed and he looked down at the carcass.

"Healthy for a junker," he muttered under his breath, earning a smirk from Savage, then said louder, "More here than there if there."

As he said that, he pointed to the carcass and the ration bar respectively. Savage thought of a plan instantaneously and answered quickly.

"I have more of these," he said, moving the bar again, "That's what I wanted from my ship. I'll trade them all to you if you'll give me that. I'll give you this one now as a promise, ok?"

His brother pondered over this for a few minutes, then snatched the bar from his hand. Savage reached for the carcass, but his brother blocked his hand and snarled. He pulled back quickly.

"These first, then you get yours," he hissed, and Savage understood.

For all his insanity, his brother was no fool.

"Ok," Savage said, putting his hands up as if in surrender, "But we should hide it. My ship is a while away, and I we're going to go get the bars we'll have to leave it here for a while."

Savage watched as his brother thought about this, then pulled the carcass back to the entrance of the tunnel and shoved it in, turning back to Savage expectantly. Savage turned and began to walked, hearing his brother scuttling behind him, and smiled. It was working!

* * *

When they arrived at the ship, Savage walked up the platform and disabled the blaster door with the codes he'd reprogramed after disposing of the previous owner. He looked back and saw his brother waiting at the bottom of the platform, looking hesitant.

"They're in here," he called out, then added on an afterthought, "Too many for me to carry alone. Come up and get some of these!"

His brother hesitated for another moment, then scuttled his way up the ramp quickly, his metal legs clanging against the ramp. Savage had already run to the cockpit, and when his brother entered the blast door, he shut it remotely from there, also shutting the door between himself and the room where he'd just trapped his brother. He turned to the console and closed all the airlocks and the boarding ramp, starting up the launch sequence in the computer.

He heard his brother begin to scream as he did this and cringed. He knew the reaction wouldn't be good, but he still felt guilty that it had to be that way. The scuttling sound went swiftly and erratically around the cargo room he was trapped in, and Savage finished the launch, the ship blasting off and moving out of the gravitational pull of the planet below. He leaned back in his chair as the computer calculated the hyperspace course to reach Dathomir. When they were safely on their way, he turned back to look through the viewport in the door at his brother.

At first he didn't see him and almost panicked, worried that he'd somehow gotten out of an airlock before they were closed and was back on the garbage world. But he sensed him close by, so that couldn't be. He peered through the small window for several seconds more before his brother's face suddenly appeared right in front of his, snarling angrily. Savage started and drew back from the window, and his brother began to pound of it with his fist and claw at it with his fingers. Finding it impossible to open that way, he screamed in rage and scuttled away. Savage sat back in his chair and didn't go toward the window for a while.

* * *

After around an hour, Savage dared to approach the window again. He hadn't heard any sounds from the cargo bay for a while and wanted to make sure his brother was alright.

When he looked out, he saw his brother crouched in the very center of the cargo bay, where he could see every part of the room. Savage saw that he'd calmed slightly and decided to take a risk, turning to grab some of the ration bars that were in the compartment beside him and a water jug. He opened the door and stepped out, seeing his brother's eyes immediately on him.

He walked slowly toward his brother, trying not to come off as threatening. His brother was watching him with an almost resigned look. Savage carefully crouched down a few steps in front of him, setting the food and water within his reach. His brother looked down at it, then back at him, now looking somewhat accusing.

"You fooled me," he said, sounding almost sane.

"I'm sorry," Savage replied, "I knew you wouldn't come any other way. And the place where we're going is much better than where you were."

His brother gave him a somewhat dismissive glance and looked at the food. The water caught his attention particularly, and when he opened and tasted it, he seemed unaware of anything else. He drank until the bottle was empty, then shook it sadly. Finally, he looked back to Savage and held out the bottle, his face reluctant but pleading.

"Sure," Savage said, taking the bottle back, "I'll get you some more."

* * *

Savage left the door between the cockpit and the cargo bay open after that. A couple times his brother scuttled in, wanting more ration bars to hide behind the crates of cargo or to refill his water bottle. Savage had begun to dose lightly when the scuttling sound awoke him again as his brother entered.

This time his brother didn't have anything in his hands, nor was he gesturing that he wanted something. In fact, he moved and acted like a completely different person, a sane person. He was cool and collected, his arms crossed behind him. His brow was kit in thought and he looked at Savage confusedly, then spoke in a soft, rational voice.

"Where am I?" he asked.

Savage's eyes widened in surprise and he tried to contain his joy as he answered.

"You're on my ship, brother," he said slowly, wanting him to stay calm, "We're on a course to Dathomir."

"Dathomir…" his brother said, as if trying to remember something.

He then turned and began to scuttle back out, stopping to calmly adjust the air temperature a few degrees first. Savage stood and followed him when he left, watching from the door as he walked around the cargo bay as if seeing it for the first time. He approached him carefully when he stopped, wanting to preserve this mood.

"Where am I?" the quiet voice asked again as he came near.

Savage's heart sank and he answered again.

"You're on my ship, brother," he said.

His brother nodded and settled down, looking straight ahead. Savage sat beside him quietly, not knowing what else to do.

"Shut up," his brother whispered, drawing his attention again, "Please, _please_…"

Savage didn't make a sound, knowing that his brother probably wasn't talking to him. He just watched with a sinking feeling as his brother battled his inner demons alone.

"Master," he said softly, crossing his arms across his chest as if nervous, "I am not to blame, do not punish me. It was that snake, that Jedi, I did nothing! Kenobi! Please, please, _please_…"

Savage could no longer stand to watch.

"Brother?" he said softly, leaning a little closer, "Brother, there's nobody there."

His brother blinked slightly, looked at him for a few moments, then looked forward again.

"No," he said, sounding tormented again, "No, no, stop! Shut up! Leave me!"

Savage sighed sadly.

"I can't hear you, you're not there!" his brother said, spitting the words at whatever image was haunting him, "Fire above, fire above, we don't know when we'll fall. Fire above, fire above, what once was great is rendered small!"

Savage stood and walked away slowly as his brother began to chant that rhyme repeatedly, probably trying to drown out whatever voices he was hearing. He checked the time on their heading and found that they were only an hour away. He heard scuttling and turned back, seeing his brother run to hide in the crates from his hallucination. Hopefully there was something that Mother Talzin could do for him. Force knows her magic had destroyed plenty of lives. Maybe it was time for it to save one.

* * *

Savage had just watched as Mother Talzin reconstructed his brother. She' fooled him into letting her put a sleep spell on him, then it became apparent how the machine was attached to him; it wasn't. He was holding it together with his torso through the Force, and when he lost consciousness it fell to the ground, ripping away from the flesh that had partially healed around it. His brother screamed and Savage winced, the asked Talzin what they would do next.

She replied that they would then begin, and Savage's eyes widened as she began to chant and her fingers became intangible and reached into his brother's head. It had made him nervous to say the least, especially when his brother moaned in obvious pain. The dark shadows Talzin pulled from his head made Savage cringe, they felt so desolate and pained. Then she'd molded the new legs onto his body and his back had arched in agony, a scream escaping him that almost made Savage try to stop Talzin. She set him down on the table and Savage drew close, seeing that his brother was still breathing quickly and his brow was wrinkled in unconscious pain. She tapped his forehead, saying his name and proclaiming him a reborn son of Dathomir. His brother's eyes shot open and focused.

"Brother?" Savage asked quietly.

Maul reached out and grabbed Savage's face, pulling him closer and glaring into his eyes. Savage squirmed slightly, surprised at the strength of his brother's grip and somewhat alarmed by the way he was looking at him. But, after a moment, the grip relaxed slightly and his brother's face registered a minute expression of recognition.

"Brother," he growled back, releasing Savage's face.

Then Mother Talzin disappeared into a cloud of green mist, as she had appeared before, and Savage was left alone with his kin. He looked back to his brother to see his face was confused and pained, but clearly sane.

"My…" he started, his voice cracking slightly, "My legs…"

"They have been restored," Savage answered, "by Mother Talzin."

His brother then began to speak, and immediately Savage knew that the insanity, to brokenness that had consumed his brother had been mended slightly, but there was still a great deal of pain for him to sort through.

"It has been so long, and my path has been so dark," he said, bending one of the newly formed legs and grabbing it at the knee joint with a wince, "Darker than I ever dreamed it could be."

As he said this he looked at Savage as if confiding in him, and Savage felt somewhat encouraged. He was finally speaking to his brother.

"And yet, you survived," he said, trying to comfort him.

His brother turned and tried to stand, falling forward instead. Savage started to walk around the table to help him, but he pushed himself up before to could, experimenting with the balance of his new legs. Then he turned to Savage with a scornful look.

"Of course I survived!" he sneered, as if just suggesting it could have happened otherwise was a personal insult.

He then turned away, giving Savage the cold shoulder, and ran for about a dozen meters, leaving Savage no choice but to follow behind. When he finally stopped, he let out another roar, but this time it was a very sentient sound, full of rage and pain. Savage's eyes widened and he just watched, unsure what else to do.

His brother began to confide in him again after that, speaking of how much he had missed and what had been taken from him. Savage felt his every hurt as if it was his own, and when Maul mentioned who had caused all this pain, he could feel the hatred boiling in him like a lava pit.

"I was apprentice to the most powerful being in the galaxy once," Maul said, "I was destined to become…so much more. But I was robbed of that destiny by the Jedi, by Obi Wan Kenobi."

When his brother mentioned the name he had said several times during insanity, finally giving it context, Savage had only one thought.

"Then you must have your revenge, my brother," he said.

"Yes," Maul replied, his eyes growing thoughtful, "We shalt start with revenge."

* * *

**That's this one! Maul's finally in the picture!**

**Also, a Zhaboka is a Zabrak cultural weapon, used in their ceremonies and later for actual fighting. It is a staff with a blade at both ends, somewhat like a light-beam free version of a saberstaff. It, like a saberstaff, would be incredible difficult to use and impractical unless the user was an undisputed master. I know Savage would probably have used one because he picked up how to used the saberstaff so naturally and one of the Night Brothers was using one in the first fight with Ventress. **


	8. Lightsaber

**This is the last chapter. Sad! Maul and Savage get closer just in time for Savage to die and Maul to lose the closest thing to a healthy relationship that he's ever had. Sad! But there is no death, only the Force. **

**Thanks for reading, be sure to leave me a note if you liked it!**

* * *

Again Savage watched. He was acutely ashamed that watching was all he could do, but he never allowed himself to turn away.

Maul had just begun a slaughter. The children who'd run up to the ship, thinking it brought vital supplies to their little remote outpost, were the first victims. Savage had followed his brother out when he went down the ramp and saw their faces as they died. At his feet were their bodies. After the children, the parents had come running. Maul had killed most of the kids quickly, but one he allowed to scream in terror so that the adults would be drawn to them before beheading the boy. He couldn't have been much more than six.

The parents turned the corner and one pulled a blaster, snapping Savage out of his shocked reverie. He deflected one bolt that could have hit him, the others not even close to mark due to the shooter's shaking hands. Maul wasn't so stationary. He was at them like a whirlwind, swinging a blade here, snarling a little there, herding them into an open area like cattle. Savage circled around behind them and covered the other side of the little herd, using his sheer size and frightening appearance to move them.

Maul lined them up and told him to find a droid, which he did. Then he had the droid record a holo, in which he spoke directly to the Jedi, Obiwan Kenobi, and told him to come and face him alone. The people behind him whimpered and cried all the while, to which he gave little attention. Savage acted as a deterrent from running, standing beside the droid and out of the shot. At the end, as added incentive, Maul sliced his saber blade across the entire group at the neck, killing them all. After all, Kenobi would come running if he thought there would be more innocents he could save, and Maul made it sound like these were but a few of their hostages.

In truth, there were only five other people in the town, one elderly adult and four almost teenage children. Savage knew the number because Maul sent him to take care of them. Savage had done as he was told, knowing that if he didn't and his brother was forced to do it himself, their deaths would have been worse than by his blade. Savage hadn't had terribly long with his brother, but he knew him that well at least.

Then they waited. Savage kept a careful eye on Maul all the while, trying not to let the man out of his sight. True, there were no more people to harm out there, but his brother was still dangerously unsteady. He paced around like a cage beast, muttering about revenge and Kenobi. Only his rigid posture and the arms crossed behind his back distinguished him from the raving lunatic Savage had first found. All the while, the bodies lay where they had fallen, spread over the settlement. No longer able to stand seeing them just sit there, Savage went to move the bodies, intent on burning them. Maul stopped his pacing and looked after him when he moved, eventually following him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice quiet and callus as ever.

Savage looked over to him with a knitted brow, then bent and picked up the body of a woman.

"Burning these," he replied simply, not looking up again.

"Why?" Maul asked, the question sounding as loaded as it probably was.

"Because it won't do to just leave them here," Savage growled back impatiently as he lifted another carcass onto his other shoulder.

There was a long pause. Savage was expecting Maul to call him weak or sentimental, as Dooku would have. After all, he knew now without a doubt that his brother was as much the sith lord as Dooku had been, and perhaps even more so. He loved him in spite of that similarity, but he knew how his brother thought. And he had to do this.

"You are wise," Maul said after a moment, coming up beside him and lifting the body of a child by the shirt.

"Brother?" Savage asked in reply, looking at him questioningly.

"If the bodies were left here, the Jedi would see the damage that was done and come in more guarded, knowing by the number of carcasses and dwellings that there were few to no living people for him to save," Maul explained, dragging the body towards the town, "He might even turn away and fly into orbit to call for reinforcements. Instead, we will leave only one or two of the bodies within sight to draw him in."

Savage knew that his brother understood what he'd meant when he said leaving the bodies wouldn't do. But he recognized that his brother was showing him something, like his uncle had showed him how to bait traps. He remember when he began baiting the trap in a foolish, rookie way and his uncle had said, "Ok, you could do it that way," and then began baiting his own trap correctly. He'd always moved slowly so Savage could see what he was doing and imitate him. Something about his brother's tone when he made his statement had brought that memory to mind and Savage was touched. His brother was trying to teach him something.

He followed Maul's lead almost eagerly after that, putting his previous shame in the killings aside. What was done was done, and he'd certainly shamed himself much worse when he became a kin killer. Now he had only one duty in the universe, his duty to his remaining brother, and this time he was going to get it right.

* * *

When the revenge attempt failed due to the witch's interference, the brothers became wanderers of sorts. They took bounty hunting jobs here and there, when they had the option, but more frequently they were robbers and Jedi slayers, killing several who came to hunt them down as they ran. They got to know each other well and the bond between the twins was rekindled, to a point where Savage swore that sometimes the feelings and thoughts he had were coming from Maul and not himself. The environment between them, however, was in a constant state of flux. Sometimes they were the closest of companions, willing to risk everything to see each other safe, and sometimes there were moments like this.

Their latest robbery had been a stop along the way, barely planned. It was easy enough to pull off with little planning, but surprisingly the payoff was abundant. They'd just managed to get and entire safe full of credits, enough to last for a lifetime if they were careful. But Maul was acting superior again. He had begun talking of the Jedi hunting them, saying that credits were useless without a plan to survive. Savage had already brought up the idea of finding an outer rim world and settling there when this conversation had come up before, and kriff the rest of the galaxy. By Maul's reaction from last time, he knew not to bring it up again. So Savage just said they could deal with the Jedi when they came, trying to put his brother's doubts to rest. Maul just shook him off.

"There are too many," he said, looking back to Savage, "To continue we need one, singular vision. My vision."

"Brother," Savage said in a tired way, seeing the conversation going into an issue that had already come up once or twice before and led to arguments, "Let us share our strength. There is no need for dominance between us."

"Always two there are, my brother," Maul said, his voice sounding only slightly irritated, "A master and an apprentice. And you…"

He walked to Savage as he spoke and gently pushed his shoulder, swelling up on his mechanical legs to be taller than his brother. He knew exactly the buttons to push to start Savage's temper, and Savage felt himself begin to fume.

"…are the apprentice," he finished, turning away with quiet distain.

Savage didn't want to fight his brother. He would rather die than cause his only kin any harm. He did, however, want to bring down his pride a notch. Whenever Feral had gotten too big on himself it had been solved with a simple wedgie or a brotherly brawl that caused nobody any serious harm but got the point across. However, as neither was an option in Maul's case, Savage drew his saberstaff and ignited it boldly, taking a ready stance behind his brother. Maul sighed and spoke quietly before turning to engage him.

"Ah, so it's time for a lesson," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

The fight was over embarrassingly quickly. Maul had caught his arm, twisted the lightsaber out of his grip at the wrist, grabbed his face with his mechanical foot, and used the full weight of his largely metal body to force Savage to the ground. Savage went limp and the foot altered its grip, allowing him to see his brother's face.

"You've grown so strong," he said, both awe and pride evident in his voice.

"I shall complete your training," Maul said, helping him up, "Not as your brother, but as your master."

Savage didn't meet his brother's eyes once he'd regained his footing. He didn't want him to see the feeling of betrayal in his eyes. Savage had told Maul of all that he'd suffered, told him of the master he'd had and the torture he'd endured. How could he want to be as Dooku had been? Why could be not be happy to have a brother at all, as Savage was?

His life was not his own. But that was a fact he'd accepted long ago.

* * *

"No, wrong again," Maul said, his voice increasingly tired.

They had been drilling with the same saberstaff stances for almost four hours. Savage's legs were sore for the first time since he was changed, and his patience with his brother was wearing thin. He was infuriating! Nothing was ever perfect enough for the boy raised a sith, and Savage couldn't help but lose focus as his anger approached a full boil.

"Do it again," Maul said, walking circles around him in the cargo bay of their ship as they flew through hyperspace.

Savage did try it again, and Maul stopped him before he even started.

"No, stance is off balance," he said, earning a frustrated grunt from Savage but not showing the slightest bit of emotion himself, "Again."

Finally, he could take it no longer. He'd barely even moved that time!

"I'm trying my best, brother!" he said, glaring down at Maul.

Maul met his eyes with an unimpressed look.

"There is your problem," he said, then began walking again without any explanation.

Savage boiled over and struck at his brother, shoving him from behind hard enough to send an ordinary man to the ground. Maul recovered without falling and turned on him as quickly as a wild animal, throwing him against the wall of the cargo hold with the Force and calling Savage's saberstaff to his hand. He then walked collectedly over to the heap where his brother lay and spoke down to him.

"Your lack of control is your greatest downfall," he said quietly.

Savage didn't answer him, so he continued on.

"I realize that you had a previous master who trained you using much different methods than my own," Maul said, his voice sounding almost sympathetic, "It is unfortunate. He taught you to surrender your control completely to your rage, but that is neither wise nor efficient. Your anger is your greatest weapon, a weapon to be sharpened and tended regularly. But a weapon cannot control itself. If you surrender to anger, you act on instinct alone, and while sometimes effective against Jedi and other non-sith, this will almost never work on one trained in the dark side. No, your anger must be the tip of your spear, your fuel. It should drive your body, not numb your mind. Do you understand, brother?"

Savage listened to his brother's words and accepted them without question when he heard Maul call him brother for the first time in a great while. He did lack control, especially when he was angry. And he was grateful it was his brother teaching him now instead of his former master. Maul was kin, not just his master, so Savage knew that he cared about _him_ more than his training. He was only strict because he wanted his brother to be the best he could be, the same way Savage himself had been with Feral. Savage thought he understood. He nodded his head and stood, looking at Maul apologetically.

"I did not understand what you said earlier, brother," he said, standing and brushing himself off, "Can you explain it to me?"

"To which statement do you refer, apprentice?" Maul asked, his voice soft and detached as ever.

"When I said that I was trying my best," Savage clarified, already missing the title of brother.

"Ah, yes," Maul said, turning to walk slowly away from him, toward the cockpit, "You said that you tried. But there is do, and do not. There is no try. Nothing less than perfection is acceptable, and if you are forced by imperfection to say merely that you try, you are not doing what needs to be done."

Savage nodded and followed after Maul.

"I will remember that, brother," he said.

* * *

Savage and Maul were trapped in the ejected cockpit of their ship, running low on life support and drifting aimlessly in space. Savage sat in a chair, feeling himself weaken slowly. He'd lost his arm in the battle with Kenobi, and his knee wasn't in great shape either. He was bleeding, tired, and their situation was growing more dire with every moment as they had to divert all power to life support. Even with that, the air was decreasing in quality with every breath.

"Stay alert, Savage," Maul's voice said, sounding distant, "You must resist falling into shock."

Savage looked up briefly to see a concerned look on his brother's face. Maul was in the chair opposite him and looking like he was faring a bit better than Savage. He was panting, slightly, at the thinness of the air and he had a few minor burns and cuts. But though he'd lost one of his mechanical legs, Maul had otherwise avoided serious harm. Savage was glad for that. If only one of them was to survive, he'd rather it be his brother than himself.

His eyes drooped again and his head lolled back, too weak to hold his head's weight anymore. He faintly heard Maul saying something to him, but could barely make out the words.

"Savage?" the murmur said, "Brother? Hold on, Savage! Hold on!"

That was the last thing he heard before the blackness took him entirely.

* * *

Savage admired his brother's mind greatly. He was cunning, quick, and had a way about him that made people want to serve him. The deathwatch gang had been unconsciously following his lead from the moment he arrived. He played Pre Visla like the fool he was, and Savage watched as everything unfolded perfectly for them both. The Huts, the Black Sun organization, the spice traders, all of the underground networks that attended to anything illegal were now under his brother's control, and it had taken only a few weeks.

Pre Visla's plan of attack of Mandalore was quickly replaced by Maul's, as all his other plans had been, and Savage could only smile at the fools that surrounded them. His brother was right; it was the will of the Force that these people find them. They were perfect tools.

* * *

Maul had taken control of the entire deathwatch gang in a single afternoon by winning the battle with Pre Visla, and only a small fraction of them had left with Bo Katan and the Night Owls. The others had painted their armor red and black, some of them even putting horn like spikes on their helmets in the same pattern as Maul's. They saw him as a mighty warrior and the idea leader. The plan had been perfectly executed, and still left Savage in awe. Overnight they'd gone from a prison cell to leading the planet, and all thanks to his brother's incredible sense of tactics. No, Savage no longer disputed who of the two of them was the leader. He now followed Maul's decisions with no questions asked.

And then Maul had finally gotten the chance for his long overdue revenge against Kenobi, although Savage didn't understand his methods. Yes, he understood that killing the girlfriend would cause him pain and didn't dispute that part. But he didn't understand why his brother would leave a man like that alive when he was in a situation to do otherwise. He'd cut him in half, for Force's sake, not to mention that he had the alarming habit of escaping under the most unlikely of odds. He could understand wanting him to suffer, but this just made no sense at all.

Not surprisingly, Kenobi had barely made it back to the cell block before Bo Katan and her rebels decided to bust him loose. Savage was not a man to gloat, especially over Maul who would cause him some kind of pain if he did, but he knew it would happen. He didn't have to be a tactical genius to know that Kenobi would be gone again, and this time with valuable information that couldn't afford to be leaked. The republic couldn't know that Maul had taken over leadership, or the clone army would come knocking at their doorstep. So the entirety of their men were sent out, all trying to bring Kenobi back into custody or else kill him. Savage had grabbed his own weapon and was headed to the throne room to join his brother so that the two of them could join in the battle. Not surprisingly, his brother's presence felt very agitated. But when Savage opened the door he found him quietly pacing in front of his throne.

"Brother?" Savage said to announce his presence as he entered the throne room.

Maul looked up for a moment, then back down as he continued pacing, muttering about something.

"Brother, the Jedi," Savage said, coming closer to Maul, "Are we not going to go and catch him?"

Maul paused for a moment, then murmured something again and kept pacing, his concentration through the force becoming palpable to his twin.

"Brother, what's wrong?" Savage asked as Maul sat down on the throne, closing his eyes.

"I sense a presence…that I haven't felt since…" Maul said, his eyes losing focus for a moment, then they shot open in alarm, "Master!"

* * *

Savage had never been so outmatched in his life, and he knew it. His brother was obviously terrified of this newcomer, trying to flatter him as soon as he saw him. Anyone who frightened his brother like that was immediately an enemy in Savage's book, and his fists began working angrily as the cloaked old man looked up at him and back down to his brother. If he harmed one horn on his head…

His thoughts were interrupted by gravity suddenly losing its effect. Savage flew to the glass wall and hit with a great deal of force, enough to bend the metal framework behind him. He sensed his brother's pain as he struggled in the same situation and his rage flared up. After a few moments, the newcomer who Maul had called "master" dropped both Zabraks to the ground. They took a ready stance together, moving instinctively together into their own, separate defensive stances. The old man cackled and drew his own two lightsabers, holding an open stance as if in a challenge.

The fight began and progressed more quickly than even his encounters with the Jedi had. They found themselves winding down a marrow hallway, with Maul taking the lead in the tight space. This was unusual, as over the last few months Maul had purposely placed Savage at the front, saying he needed the practice. But he shoved his way in front of his brother as they entered the hallway and growled menacingly at the stranger. They went blow for blow until the hallway ended in a platform overlooking a large and, gratefully, empty courtyard. His brother twirled around their opponent and Savage saw and took his change simultaneously. He charged the man while his eyes were on Maul and head butted him, causing him to lose his balance.

The man fell over the side of the platform, but reached out with the force and dragged the brothers down with him. The other two landed more gracefully than Savage, but he took pride that he at least landed well. The brothers began attacking in tandem, one constantly circling while their opponent focused on the other. The old man must have realized that he couldn't keep this up long, because he took a chance and focused his whole attention on Savage, using a maneuver that sent him flying a few meters and landed him solidly on his face. Then he turned on Maul.

Savage didn't see what happened to his twin, but he felt him lose consciousness and stood to see him sliding down the stairs, with the man advancing on him slowly. Savage threw himself at the man forcefully, putting himself between their opponent and his brother, and began fighting the man one on one. He wasn't entirely clear headed, the hard landing a few minutes ago had concussed him slightly, but he knew he was in trouble. He was barely bringing up his defenses in time.

The man twisted and turned around him, confusing him even more with his fast movements. Then he back-flipped to gain momentum and kicked Savage in the face, worsening his concussion. Savage stumbled for a few moments, his vision unclear, when the worst pain he'd ever felt charred its way through him. One of the man's sabers pierced his abdomen and one his lung, both fatal injuries. Savage stumbled backwards one step out of instinct, then he was falling. The man had pushed him off the elevated wall with the Force, landing him hard at the bottom and knocking what little wind he had left right from his lungs. Savage started to feel very cold and a green mist began to rise off of him, like the mist that had seeped from his arm when he lost it. A moment later, he heard a light thump and looked up to see his brother running towards him. He reached out his hand towards him.

"Brother," he said as Maul grabbed the hand, "I am an unworthy apprentice."

The cold feeling began to spread and Savage took in a small amount of air to continue.

"I'm not like you," he said, his voice getting lighter and strangely more familiar as the mist rose from him, "I never was."

His brother shook his head lightly and Savage's eyes rolled back as he lost control of his muscles. But, strangely enough, Savage did not fade into nothing as he had thought he would upon dying. He had always mused that dying would be like falling asleep and everything would fade into blackness. But when he breathed his last, a warm feeling washed through Savage. He separated from his body and felt, suddenly, like he had found the place where he truly belonged. He understood everything now about the Force and couldn't remember why it hadn't been clear when he was alive.

He saw Maul grieve over his body. He felt like he should leave for some reason, but his brother was all alone now. He couldn't just leave. He couldn't let himself "be at peace," not when his kin was still in danger. Savage watched as Maul threw himself into the fight with the man who'd killed him, knowing before it happened that his brother was going to lose. He felt the Force…felt himself churn as his killer threw its energy into force lightning, torturing his brother after he begged him for mercy. He felt his brother's pain as his own, and screamed in unison with him as the torture continued until Maul lost consciousness.

The man bound Maul after he passed out, putting him in shock cuffs to prevent his using the Force. He lifted Maul into the air and Savage watched as his own body was lifted as well and carried to the ship the man had come on. The brothers were thrown into the cargo hold together, and Savage felt the pain again as his brother screamed when the shock cuffs, locked on their highest setting, were triggered by the old man to send him again into unconsciousness.

Savage watched his brother as the ship took off. He lay on the ground, his face creased with the remnants of the pain of electrocution. The ship went to the nearest sun, stopped within the closest safe orbit to the star. The man came back to the cargo hold then and looked down with disgust at Maul, earning an unheard angry growl from Savage. He lifted Savage's body with the force again and threw it into the airlock, closing the hatch behind it. He then went back to the cockpit and Savage heard the airlock open, ejecting his body into the star.

Again he got the strong feeling that he shouldn't be here, that he should somehow be moving on, but he ignored it. His brother still needed him. And while Savage didn't know what he could do, he wasn't going to leave him until he knew he was safe. He would find a way to protect him, because that was all he knew. That was how he'd lived, that was how he'd died. It was what he'd always done.

* * *

**And there it is. The final chapter. Again, I say you should check out the profile of my sister, MuchAdoAboutNonny. She will be handling any continuation of this story from Maul's side, if the deal between us stays the same. Thank you for reading, it was a fun story to write!**


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